A Burning World
by Lily Bird Flower
Summary: What if Janson brought soldiers into the room instead of just being by himself? What if Teresa never managed to get Thomas out? I really don’t know where this is going to go and I am most definitely not going to stick to the lore. So, yeah. Definitely Janson x Thomas, but one-sided. Chapters 7 and forward have been updated.
1. The Beginning

**Hello! This is just something I wanted to work on because I'm getting some writer's block on the story with Peter and his... I shouldn't talk about other stories, so this is just something that I can work on when I get writer's block for my Spider-Man story.**

 **If you don't like the ship that I may use in this story, please just go and never read this. I myself feel sort of disgusted by interpreting Janson and Thomas' relationship this way, but Janson just kinda paved the way with his weird and creepy words. Like how he referred to Thomas as his in the last movie at the end. How do you expect me to interpret that?! I mean seriously, do you expect me to NOT think that Janson has at least SOME sort of obsession with Thomas at the end of Death Cure?**

 **Also, the Maze Runner series is an awesome series, go watch or read it. I mean, what? I didn't say anything... Anyways, if you want to understand this story (which you don't, trust me), you have to watch the film or at least know the gist of the film plot. Since this is based off of the movies and not the books. Sorry, those who liked the books better, this is based off of the movie!**

 **Now, those who haven't run away yet, there might be some creepy vibes later on, and MAYBE, just MAYBE some yaoi, but first I need to be able to write better. Meaning that this could potentially be about a boy loving another boy in the "I want to be your boyfriend!" lind of way and have... sexual intercoarse. So, if you don't like that, then why did you read this far down? GO AWAY!**

 **God, haters are just secretly jealous that you had the guts to actually write what you wanted to write. Jeez, stop being so mean and just go away, go to another story, or write your own! So, without further ado, here we go!**

 **PS: Sorry that my writing is bad. I have always sucked at writing stories so this won't be too different. If you wish to stand through that, them go ahead and read it. If not, well, this was for me anyways. And I have no one to proof read my story, so expect a lot of misspellings.**

Thomas' senses came on one by one, and eventually Thomas managed to open his eyes. He had been tired, but once he opened his eyes all fatigue seemed to disappate. The sounds of a building crashing reached Thomas' ears, but he didn't really register the noise. He turned his head and saw Teresa sitting right by him, managing to catch Teresa in the action of glancing at his face, and caught her off guard. Thomas looked down at his arm, and stared blankly at the syringe in Teresa's hand for a few seconds before it finally clicked that Teresa had taken his blood.

"Do you know what this place is, Thomas?" Thomas, wanting to see where Janson was, let his head fall back onto this sort of patient bed that he was on, twisting his neck so he could see Janson standing at the window behind the hospital bed. Janson looked back at Thomas, before averting his gaze and looking out to the world again, Teresa getting up and moving over to the table set up on the other side of the room. "It's a lifeboat. The whole world might be sinking, but that doesn't mean we have to be."

Then Thomas' adrenaline began to kick in as he remembered Ava and Janson firing at her, and felt something on his wrists. When he glanced down at them, his hands curled into fists as his wrists were cuffed against the sturdy cloth strapping Thomas' waist to the hospital bed. "When will it be ready?" Janson asked Teresa, walking away from the windows, and then Thomas noticed the few soldiers standing in the room with them.

"It's almost done," Teresa replied, the rage within Thomas almost spilling over at the mere sight of her. Thomas yanked his wrists back, failing to free himself from the hospital bed restraints. Thomas breathed heavily, moving his gaze over to Janson, who had stopped and just gazed at Thomas.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" Thomas asked after a few moments of silence.

"Kill you?" Janson began to move closer, his walk more confident now that Thomas was restrained. "No, we don't want to do that." Teresa paused, before moving again with a more clouded expression.

Janson only stopped when he was about to get TOO close to Thomas. "We're going to take special care of you." Thomas growled underneath his breath, glaring at Janson with all the hatred Thomas could muster. "We'll keep you alive, just-!" Thomas yanked on his restraints again, this time much more violently. Janson stopped speaking for a bit, and then continued.

"In return, you'll give life to the rest of us. The ones we choose to save, anyways." Janson wrapped his fingers around one of the capsule syringes and turned it on, smiling without any kindness once more. "There's obviously not going to be enough for the rest of us." Janson started to walk over to Teresa, facing Thomas for only a few more steps before turning to Teresa. "Hard choices are going to have to be made."

Thomas' hatred spilled over, his face twitching with rage, and Thomas struggled against the restraints placed on him, the soldier right by Thomas tensing slightly. "The flare will burn itself out. The question is, who will be the ones left standing?" Janson plucked the finished cure out of Teresa's hand, signaling to one of the two soldiers standing near the door.

Janson turned away from Teresa as the soldier grabbed Teresa's arm and placed his gun behind her back when Teresa tried and failed miserably at head-butting the soldier, getting Teresa to leave without that much resistance other than curses and screams. "And thanks to you, to THIS, we finally get to choose," Janson finished, acting as if that never happened. Janson pulled up his sleeve, brandishing his infected arm to Thomas and hovering the capsule over his arm. Thomas stopped in his stuggles, breathing heavily from exerting himself as their eyes met, Thomas' confused and Janson's cocky.

"To our health." Janson stabbed himself with the syringe capsule, his breath hitching and face scrunching up, before relaxing as the cure entered his blood stream. Janson signaled to the remaining soldiers, and they all surrounded Thomas as Janson left the room.

Claustrophobia hit Thomas as the soldiers manhandled Thomas, one of them yanking the restraints off as another pushed down when Thomas made to get up. The third aimed his tazing gun at Thomas, the gun whining as it turned on. Thomas began to have a panic attack, every sense heightened and his heart pumping madly. He felt himself get yanked off the bed-seat thing he was on and his hands cuffed behind his back, the gun hovering over the center of Thomas' back. Thomas' mouth felt dry, and Thomas gulped down as much fear as he could as he was pushed down a series of hallways.

They trudged onward with no care for Thomas' struggling and yells. Then as the small group entered an intersection, in which a larger group of soldiers were also entering, the building began to shake, and a large portion of the hallway to the group's left was destroyed and filled with debris. One of the soldiers made a run for it, and fired off a cacophany of panicked, thundering footsteps and yelling of directions. A couple of soldiers sprinted ahead of the group and called out a new escape route when a portion of the building caved in once more. Thomas ran with them, runnig towards the back so he could come up with an escape plan.

However, that didn't work out as one of the soldiers grabbed one of Thomas' cuffed arms and pushed him ahead, so he was more in the middle. _Well, now I'm completely screwed._ The smell of sweat hung in the air, and Thomas wanted to gag, but preservation instincts had him swallow down the bile and roll with it. Then an excited yell from ahead said something, but Thomas didn't quite catch it.

But everyone around him did as all the soldiers began to cheer. Thomas slowed down a bit as he looked about in confusion, before a soldier pushed him ahead, shouting, "Don't slow me down or I WILL fucking shoot you!" Now Thomas felt reinvigorated to keep on running, though later Thomas would wish that that soldier had shot him in the back.

Then the entire gaggle of soldiers halted, with Thomas accidently numping into a soldier. "Watch it, kid. Hey, wait a minute." The soldier Thomas had bumped into pulled Thomas through the crowd and then, when the crowd began to thin out, Thomas saw what they were cheering for.

There was the pool Thomas had jumped into earlier, with some shards of glass still floating around and some more debris in the pool. With the small gaping hole in the wall and the pool below, the soldiers could easily jump into the pool and survive. And that was what the soldier did.

He suddenly pushed Thomas with no warning, before jumping off himself, sparking a fire as soldiers began diving left and right. Thomas opened his mouth to scream, before closing it again as he broke the water's surface. He couldn't swim with his hands cuffed, and Thomas feared that he would drown, his lungs burning as he desperately held onto his breath as he continued to sink. Then the soldier that had pushed him dived down to grab his arm once more and pull him up to the surface, guiding Thomas over to a group of police cars once they both caught their breath and managed to dodge all of the diving soldiers.

Teresa was there, violently pushed into the backseat of a police car, two soldiers entering from both sides before slamming the doors shut, cutting off her insults and shrieks. Thomas clambered out of the pool with the soldier's help as the car Teresa was in drove off, and a group of soldiers crowded the edge of the pool, pulling out other soldiers to safety and diving in when a soldier wasn't making it to the surface. Those acts of selflessness got Thomas to think that MAYBE the soldiers weren't bad people, before three soldiers grabbed Thomas by the arms and dragged him over to an amored police car.

Janson sat in the passenger seat, smiling as always at Thomas, and the rage that had subsided boiled up to the surface once more. Yet before the soldiers could shove a struggling Thomas into the police car, a rumbling caught everyone's attention, and all the soldiers not helping with the pool just stared in shock as a burning building crumbled at the base and descended onto the building. Soldiers were still jumping out of the hole, and screams could be heard as the building Thomas had just been in collapsed. Thomas' mouth hung open in shock, and even as the soldiers shoved him into the car and drove off while he was strapped to the seat, Thomas kept replaying the scene of the collapsing building inside his mind.

 _I could have been one of those screaming soldiers._ Thomas was so relieved and shocked that he made it out alive that he almost didn't hear Janson talk to the soldiers. "Did you give Thomas the sedative yet?"

That was when Thomas' heart began to beat faster. "Anthony?" the soldier to Thomas' right asked. Thomas could imagine the left soldier—Anthony—roll his eyes.

"Fine." Anthony pulled out the black thing that Janson had used earlier and slapped it onto Thomas' neck. He waited a few seconds before pulling it out, and by that time Thomas was already whoozy. Thomas began to sway, his head drooping as he blinked rapidly, trying to fight off the sedative.

Janson began talking once more, but Thomas couldn't make out any of it as he was already about to lose his fight. Thomas vainly fought off the sedative, before the adrenaline with the building wore off entirely and his tiredness of the whole fiasco along with the sedative finally took over. Thomas was out like a light before the car even turned the first corner, navigating through the burning streets and the angry people screaming as they ran throughout the city.

 **I know, this was bad. But this is something I wanted to do and I am not going to stand down because you don't even know me. How could you possibly be like, "Hey, M/N, why did you write this? You fucking suck at writing!"**

 **And yes, I am. But that does not mean I will stand by and allow myself to bow down to the haters' wishes. And why am I even ranting when nobody reads my stories anyways? Anyways, I support Pewds and I want everyone to subscribe to PewDiePie!**

 **If you even decide to click on this story. Which I can guarantee most of you won't even give this story a second glance, much less a glance at all. And I hope none of you will ever read this.**


	2. A Somewhat Creepy Interaction

**Hey, sorry that I haven't come out with this chapter, I sort of thought no one would like it. But people actually came by and said that they liked it, even though I thought it was absolute bullshit. Sorry for the cussing, but there will be cussing in pretty much all of my stories. So, I'm gonna cuss.**

 **Anyways, I just wanted to say that I have finals, and all that stupid crap. Well, more like semester exams, but everyone calls it finals at my school so... The more you know.**

 **If anyone has a great intro, I would really appreciate it.**

My eyes popped open, and I took in a deep breath, jumping off whatever I was laying on. Or rather, I tried. What ended up happening was that I slammed my entire body back onto the soft yet hard thing I was on, preventing me from even getting off the damn thing. The steady sound of beeping grew more frantic and faster, and my panic rose along with it.

I pull and pull, trying to just get up off what I know is a hospital bed at a glance, and still no progress. Then I decide to glance at my wrists. "Fuck," I mutter, pulling my wrists against the restraints on the bed that were the exact same when Teresa was taking my blood. The beeping grew louder.

So, testing out the restraints, I yank my wrists back. Nothing happens, nothing snaps or breaks, and my wrists don't even hurt. I pull again. Still nothing. Soon enough, if anyone walked in they would think I was mad by how I yanked and pulled and yelled. The beeping didn't stop, beeping rapidly with how fast I breathed.

Of course, all I did was end up tiring myself out. I leaned back against the chair, the beeping slowing down, feeling more rested than I ever had been in the entire life that I remember, despite being in WCKD's clutches. _Wait, what?_ The back of my head throbbed as I tried to remember what had went down that entire night. That was my first mistake.

Every detail of Newt's death came flooding over the dam, and tears streamed down as I gasped for air. The beeps once again ascended, and it didn't help at all. It never felt like enough, and I was left gasping like a fish out of water, choking on my sobs and pulling on the restraints. Everything was so perfect, and I felt a desire to tear the whole thing down, anger flooding my entire body on how _loud_ the beeping was, how _lifeless_ this place was.

 _How can the world be like this? HOW CAN THE WORLD JUST MOVE ON WHEN NEWT DIED?!_ My hands balled into fists, and my sharp fingernails dug into the palm of my hand as I tried to regulate my breathing. But the air seemed to leave too quickly, rushing out too fast, and my head felt light and woozy.

The click of heels hitting the floor started out soft, so soft that I thought it was part of my imagination. Then it grew louder, so loud that I couldn't hear anything else. Then it stopped, right outside a door I didn't even see until the familiar sound of a card slipping through a slot reached my ears. My breathing by now was less erratic, but it was still deep and heavy, and I still felt like there wasn't enough oxygen.

Then the door opened. The beeping wouldn't stop and I couldn't breathe, and Newt had died and I couldn't do anything and _why am I still here_ and _what did I do to deserve to live and not Newt_ and-! "Calm him down!"

Soothing words went in one ear and out the other as I saw a female hold a syringe. My heart beat faster at seeing this, and I yanked my arms back and screamed, thrashing as much as I could. People started yelling, holding my legs down and trying to keep me from squirming. "Keep his arms from moving!" the lady shouted, and the hands complied.

"No! Leave me alone! I don't want this!" The tears had all dried up, but my throat was still ready to scream. And so I did.

Winston looking up weakly. "Don't let me turn into one of them." A gunshot. Newt over him bringing down a knife, yelling. "Sorry, Tommy."

A sharp prick brought me back, and a hand ran through my hair. "Thomas. Can you hear me?" Breathing heavily, I turned and squinted at the figure. "I need you to listen to me."

"Teresa?" My voice was hoarse and I could feel the after-effects of screaming as loud as I could. I subconsciously lifted my hand to rub my throat, but it was stopped by the restraint. The beeping had slowed down, and it felt like a countdown until I could be free from this place.

"Thomas, listen. Calm down." Her voice put enphasis on each syllable, and I found myself hanging off of her every word. "Please."

My breathing leveled off, the beeping slow and quiet, and Teresa let out a sigh of what I think was relief. "Thank you, Thomas." A rather familiar man stepped into my view, and the lights were so bright I had to blink rapidly to see anything properly, and my eyes felt so crusty as I blinked.

"Teresa?" It wasn't really a question, more of a silent order or threat. I felt on edge, wanting to bolt and stretch my legs again, feeling the air rush past. The beeping seemed to read my fear, and it started to beep more rapidly, echoing the thumps of my heart.

 _I think Teresa is giving him a glare._ It was hard to tell as my vision was blurring, but Teresa didn't really seem to like the man well. "You're scaring Thomas." Her words dripped with acid, and her posture was like that of a threatened snake.

The man, who's face was in shadows for me, chuckled softly, and it only got my heart beating faster, the beeping following suit. "Oh, but I came here to say hi while he was still awake. After all, I have to get to know my new lab rat, don't I?" _BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEE—_

Terwsa and I both jumped -though I had more of a violent flinch- when the man leaned over and pulled the black thing - _a plug_ my mind helpfully provides- out of some white thing -my mind is saying _a socket_ \- violently. The beeping cuts off, but my heart takes its place, beating wildly in my chest. "There, that's better."

A male in a lab coat walks into my vision and also visibly dislikes what the shadow face did. "Sir, you must keep the monitor plugged in at all times." The male reaches down and grabs the plug, and plugs it back in before pivoting on his heel and leaving. "You should be taking better care of your 'precious lab rat.'"

Teresa's jaw clenches, but she and I stay quiet. Shadow face says nothing, doesn't even acknowledge the other male, just choosing to stare at me. _I think so. It's hard to tell when shadow face's face is covered with shadows._

Another prick in my other arm this time gives me a rather welcome distraction. Until I watch in horror as my blood is being taken. The monitor, as the male helpfully provided for me, was starting to pick up some more speed with the beeps, and my breath started to quicken. Shadow face pulls the plug in annoyance again, and this time the male does nothing, simply clenches his jaw and cradles the syringe that holds my blood in his hand.

A black female this time, who looks just _so familiar_ walks up to Teresa, hands clasped in front of her. "Teresa?" Teresa looks away from shadow face, a polite smile plastered on her face.

"Yes?" Shadow face didn't look away for even a second, and my eyes had actually gotten used to the lighting enough that I could see his mouth curved into a smile. _He looks so familiar_.

"We need you to help us make a new batch of the cure." Teresa's smile was strained now, no longer easily held. "After all," the female continued, "you're the only one that knows how to make it right now."

"Of course." Teresa hesitated as she got up, as if she couldn't bring herself to leave me with shadow face, and I wish she didn't leave. Shadow face frowned, and for a split second I saw him holding a gun, aimed at Teresa, pulling the trigger and-! _No, that never happened, Teresa was dragged away by some guards. She never was shot, and she hopefully won't be._

But I couldn't help but notice a bandage peeking out from underneath Teresa's jeans. She had a slight limp, but I could hardly notice it, so it happened a while ago. "Do you have the tranquilizer?" Shadow face's face turned to look at the doctor he was speaking to, and I could see some of his face now.

"Janson." I breathed it out, so soft that not even Janson himself heard me say it.

"Yeah, it's right here." A balding, bearded doctor walked closer to me, this time carrying a syringe with something inside of it. My breath rose, and if the monitor had been hooked up Janson would have bashed it as I kicked my legs and struggled against Janson's grip. The doctor shuffled closer, wary of me as he stilled my arm and lowered the needle into my vein. I went completely still, feeling my face pale as I helplessly watched the liquid rush into me.

Already I could feel my limbs go limp, my breathing regulating and getting deeper. Janson sat down once more and just observed my struggle to stay awake. "You can leave, now." The doctor, understanding that this was an order, nodded and left the room, taking the medical cart that I didn't notice before with him.

Newt popped up, the black liquid trickling down his chin as he stepped away from me, the knife in his chest. A hand gently grabbed my cheek, the thumb wiping away the tears I didn't even notice coming down. "There, there. No need to cry." Janson gave me that annoying smile that he always had on whenever I saw him, that smug smile that always irritated me and got under my skin.

 _This bastard DARES to say that? Even though he most definitely knows Newt DIED?!_ I glared at him, eye twitching from annoyance and I could almost _feel_ Janson's smugness grow.

"Remember when I said I would take good care of you?" I was repulsed by the way Janson leaned forward, and leaned back as much as I could, every second my vision darkening. Janson didn't seem to care at all. "Well, I meant every single last word."

His hand caressed my cheek, a parody of a lover's. "Don't be sad, Tommy, your friends will be here with you soon." What was left of my vision was stained red. _How DARE he use that nickname?!_ I let a growl out, not caring how animalistic I acted at this point.

Janson lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, touched a soft spot, didn't I?" I feel so tired, and I just let my head rest on the bed, not even batting an eye at how Janson was touching my arm. "All this time trying to kill you, and I end up trying to keep you alive as long as possible."

I just need sleep. I can't do anything for my friends here yet. But I will find a way to help them, even if it is something as insignificant as delaying the soldiers a second or two. They're still out there, and probably trying to find me, like the stubborn people they are. I just want sleep.

My eyes feel heavy, and they wish to close. And I give them that wish. Anything to get away from Janson. That night, I dream of hands chasing me, trying their best to drag me somewhere I don't want to go. But I outrun them the entire night.

For I am a runner. I outrun everyone at the end.

 **Hi, sorry about how much my writing sucks. I actually finished my finals now once I published this, so... I guess I can publish more of these chapters soon enough. See you all in the mext chapter.**

 **Oh, and can you recommend intros for me? I really need one, and I am not creative enough to come up with one.**

 **My life is a lie**

 **I was born in the fall**

 **And like Humpty Dumpty**

 **I fell off my wall**

 **The wall that is my overwhelming need**

 **To break all the rules that I'll never heed**

 **And now that I have broken them all,**

 **I see that _I_ had burned down my wall.**


	3. Escape(?)

**Hello. I don't know how to start things off, so let's just say I had multiple sleepovers and a LOT of guests coming over by the time this is posted. So, yeah. Also, I have a lot of chores, so that isn't helping.**

 **Anyone who read my only other story so far... You may not like what I will say in that story. Sorry.**

 **Well, let's jump right on into the... action?**

 **Sorry, that was just a new intro that REALLY didn't work. At all.**

I jolted awake as alarms blared in my ears. "Take Thomas over to _that_ room." _Janson? What's going on?_ "They're going to come for him, and I do _not_ want Thomas to leave this building. And you better not let him out of this building, for _your_ sake."

 _They?_ Everything clicked into place as the alarms continued. _They're coming for me!_ Pulling and yanking, I tried my best to break free when the door slid open and soldiers entered my room.

"Stop struggling or I _will_ shoot you!" I froze as the soldier aims the electric gun at me, the gun whining as it turned on. The other soldiers got to work on my restraints, trying to take it off.

Teresa runs into the room, looking around frantically before seeing me. "Thomas!" She runs up to me and I feel something drop into my hand. "There's something I need to tell you!"

"Hey!" Teresa jumps, backing up as she sees the soldier's gun trained on her. "Don't move!" Teresa stops, her eyes meeting mine. "Check her."

She swallowed nervously as the soldiers examined her pockets and clothing for any weapons or anything suspicious. I use this opportunity to look at the thing in my hand. It was some sort of container that could fit into the syringes that WCKD had, but it didn't contain the blue liquid that I was used to seeing. I couldn't see any liquid, actually.

I stuffed it into the pocket of my pants, thankful that I have pants with pockets on. The pocket I could easily reach within my restraints, which was a blessing to me, easily hid the tube that was in it, which I was also thankful for. I scanned the soldiers, seeing if any of them saw what I did.

One of the soldiers was standing in the back, with blue sleeves, out of view of the others, and gave me a thumbs up when none of the others were looking. I visibly relaxed, but then a rather obvious question popped into my mind as I thought about how my friends were doing. _How long was I out?!_

I had no way of telling at this point, and I couldn't ask anyone because the soldiers were back untying me, making sure that I couldn't run away once they were done. The cold metal of an electric gun nudged the back of my head, and I gulped, nervously keeping all of my axtions non threatening. The blue sleeved soldier grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back, cuffing them and pushing me forward.

I couldn't tell which of my friends were the soldier who gave me a thumbs up, but they walked behind me, constantly observing every turn and detail. Then I suddenly had this fear that something happened to Teresa, and I glanced over my shoulder. Teresa wasn't cuffed, but as I was looking back she was being guided down a different hallway.

The only sounds I could hear were the blaring alarms and the soldiers' footsteps, and occasionally we would pass another group of soldiers. Then sounds of gunshots and yelling could be heard from ahead, and I faltered when memories resurfaced. Newt screaming at me to kill him, Winston shooting himself, running through the burning streets trying to stay alive, and escaping WCKD with Newt and Minho.

At that time we were passing two soldiers, one with red sleeves and one with green sleeves, and they nodded to the blue sleeved soldier behind me. A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me back, unlocking the cuffs while the other two shot at the three other soldiers that were escorting me someplace. I was dragged through the hallway, going somewhere I didn't know we were heading, before taking a right and running into two soldiers. It wouldn't have been a problem, but Janson was there with them. And he was clearly pissed off.

Janson pulled out his trusty pistol and fired without hesitation, hitting red sleeves in the shoulder, inciting the rest of us that had guns to pull them out. Green sleeves pulled out their own pistol and began firing, the blue sleeved ally quickly shooting and the red sleeved ally running away, dragging me along until I got the message and started running. I could hear the gunshots echoing behind me as I ran, running like cranks were behind me.

I could still hear Janson shouting and thundering footsteps, and I could tell that my legs were out of shape. I was panting hard and my legs were already burning, my lungs feeling like they were on fire. Red sleeves was running besides me, the shoulder wound bleeding out. "Come on, Thomas!" _Gally?_

I wanted to ask so many questions, starting with _How long was I gone for?_ But everything hurt, Janson was still behind us, and we couldn't spare any time or breath. Gally was clutching the bullet wound, ripping off some cloth in an effort to stop the bleeding.

Some soldiers cut us off at the other end of the hallway, leaving us at an intersection to turn right or left, and I turned right in blind panic, hearing the elextric guns firing and the ammunition whizzing past me. A fading pair of footsteps alerted me that Gally had turned left instead, and that I was left alone. Well, not completely alone, as blue sleeves and green sleeves came running right with me as well.

Green sleeves was _fast_ , catching up to me in no time at all. Either that, or I was out of shape. Definitely the latter. Blue sleeves would have caught up to me if they weren't turning around and shooting at the soldiers chasing us. One soldier was shot in the chest, another the leg, and a third in the stomach, the fourth being grazed at the side. That left us with three soldiers and Janson chasing us down hallways.

I turned around only once and never again, with green sleeves yelling, "Quick, turn here!" _Minho_. My breaths seemed to leave too quick as I turned left with Minho, blue sleeves following soon after.

I could see an elevator in front of us, and my body screamed to sit down, but Minho guided me over to the stairs. I had no time to think, for a bullet whizzed past my head, almost hitting Minho in the head. Blue sleeves shot one of the soldiers in the chest, killing the man instantly.

Ava came to mind, falling to the ground and laying there lifelessly. I probably had slowed down, for Minho was screaming in my face and blue sleeves had caught up, pushing me and yelling as well. I couldn't recognize the voice, but I didn't care at this point since they were helping me.

I stumbled down the stairs and slipped, falling. I flailed for any support, only for the railing to slip through my hand and I was rolling down the flight of stairs, crashing into the railing as blue sleeve shot at the soldiers and Minho pulled me up, pulling out his own gun and shooting as well, yelling at me to leave.

I was dizzy and swaying to the side, and then I caught Janson's eye. His eyes were ablaze with fury, and after that I found myself running faster than I ever had before, almost flying down the steps. Minho was running behind me, grabbing his right arm and his gun dropping to the floor.

As I reached the end of the steps, one of the soldiers fell off the stairs and onto the floor in front of me. My foot hit the corpse and I crashed to the ground, bouncing back up in a flash and scrambling away from the body. Minho was in front of me, pulling me up and pushing me forward. "Head for the entrance! Go!"

I stumbled and swayed, not sure where the entrance was. _Is it that door, or the door that's more secluded?_ I had no idea which door Minho was talking about, so I looked back to see what Minho thought.

Minho wasn't there. Only Janson, running after me and calling out my name. "Thomas?!" I couldn't breathe, my legs wanted to run but my brain wanted to freeze, and everything seemed to fall in on itself.

I tried to take in more air, but I felt like my lungs wouldn't take in that air and my legs wanted to run, run away from Janson, run away from everything that reminded me of WCKD and start anew.

Not as Thomas, but as someone else. But I had to choose one door or the other.

The glass doors were in front, and I could see grass and flowers and birds chirping. But the birds weren't corpses and were flying, the grass and flowers too _alive_ and everything about it didn't make sense. So I chose the brown door, the one that seemed normal and out of the way.

I pulled it open and without thinking about it, I jumped. Nothing was underneath me for a second, and I thought I would die, that my body would crash into the ground as lifeless as Newt and Ava. Then I began rolling down and down a hill.

I slowed down as the ground leveled out, and I looked up to see where I was. It was sandy and burning hot, just like the first day out in the Scorch. The air wasn't stale but fresh, and I smiled at how good it felt to finally relax and be able to sleep. Then the door, which was already open, banged against the wall.

I saw Alby, confident and standing tall, like before he was stung. Then I saw Teresa, her eyes sending me a sorrowful look, her jaw set tight, her stance unconfident but sure, like she couldn't handle my reaction yet felt like she did the right thing. Then I saw Janson staring at me, his jaw clenched as his eyes lit up with rage, his body language confident and sure of himself, and butterflies fluttered frantically in my stomach. Then Janson flickered out, and I saw Minho yelling at me to get up and going.

Blades slicing through the air and an engine roaring got my tired head to look past where I landed. A Berg was landing, stirring up sand, and people began running out of it. I recognized Aris and Vince and Brenda, but the other two were strangers.

The male had not dark but not exactly light brown hair, with the tips the color of sand, and his eyes were a bright and vibrant green. The girl's hair was completely blond, her eyes a much more darker blue. I hated them, I wanted them to go away, to stay away. I backed away from them, not wanting anything to do with those two.

Then I heard a thud and turned around, hoping that Minho had just dropped a bag or something. But Minho was on the ground, rolling down the hill, his body jerking as he was electrocuted. A soldier was running down the hill, aiming his gun at us and getting closer to shoot.

Brenda and Vince grasped at my arms and pulled me onto my feet, getting me to run away. "Go and get Minho!" The strangers, thank the universe, nodded and followed Vince's order, grabbing Minho by the arms and dragging him towards the Berg.

I ran a bit before falling to the ground, my legs so tired that I couldn't even support myself anymore. Brenda yelped and Vince grunted, both of them doing their best to get me to the Berg. My bare feet felt the floor shift from hot, soft sand to cold, hard metal, and the last view I had of Minho was the strangers having dragged Minho to the entrance of the Berg and the soldier getting closer to the Berg. A blur, which I think was Aris, ran past me to hopefully help the strangers with Minho.

Gunshots rang through the air once Brenda and Vince had set me down on one of the seats in the Berg, and Brenda grabbed a pistol off her belt as she, too rushed out of the Berg. Aris and the strangers dragged Minho onto the bench opposite me and they, too left the Berg, guns in hand. After they left, all that could be heard was the occasional gunshot. The silence was torturing me, and every gunshot could be one of my friends dying by Janson's hands. I silently hoped that Janson was the one receiving the bullet, wishing that I could be there to see his body collapse onto the floor.

Gally limped onto the Berg, applying pressure on his bullet wound, Brenda helping to disinfect it. I have no idea how Gally had managed to get out of the building, and I was too spent to care. I leaned my head back and took a deep breath, hoping that Teresa made it out okay.

Honestly, I just wanted bygones to be bygones and just wanted everyone to make it out alive. _Except for Janson_. Yeah, Janson was an exception. But I didn't want to kill anyone else. I want everyone to be able to live another day.

 _But that will never happen as long as the Flare is out there_. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, realizing that it was pretty clean despite not having woken up to clean myself. Actually, everything was really clean. Except for the sand, everything was cleaner than they should be if I was never taken out of my restraints.

 _So I was there long enough to be cleaned. That doesn't help at all_. It was so hard to breathe, feeling like it took all of my energy just to take a breath. Gally took sat next to me, flinching as he gently lowered himself onto the bench.

"Hey, you doing all right?" I couldn't respond. I was out of shape and I wasn't able to do anything but breathe. Gally snapped in front of my face. _As if that's going to make me feel better_.

"Gally!" Vince said something else, but I didn't pay attention. Everything was blurry and darker than it should be, like shadows were covering the entire place. My eyelids felt like they were moving through syrup, and I forced my eyelids to come back up again, fearing the darkness. Fearing I wouldn't wake up again.

I think Brenda came back. _Or was it blue sleeves? Maybe Frypan? Or it could be Newt—Oh._

At first, it felt like the hole already in my chest was widening painfully, trying its best to make me suffer. But then I just felt hollow, and numb. It took longer to blink, and even longer to just breathe. Arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the bench and onto a mattress?

The strangers peered down at me, their faces flooding with pity. Anger pooled in my gut. _What do they know? What, am I something to pity now, to feel bad about and then help out just because I look PITIFUL? DO I LOOK HELPLESS TO THEM?!_

My breaths quickened, as my lungs felt deprived of oxygen. _Seems like nowadays I'm having lots of trouble getting oxygen_. The gunshots became louder, as if they were right outside the Berg. I don't exactly understand what happened, as I sort of drifted off.

The Berg made it out with little problems, though a handful of soldiers had gotten on. The soldiers were on our team, though I still feel wary about the strangers that carried Minho, which I am going to call the Sand Twins. They just give off this weird vibe, and the female kept looking at her nails and feet, like she was anticipating something to happen in those areas.

"Thomas?" I rapidly blinked, pushing away some of my fatigue, focusing on Teresa. She held out her hand to me, waiting for me to do something. "The capsule. I need it."

I tried to get my hand to pull it out, but all I managed to do was lift my hand a few centimeters, and I felt like a failure. I swallowed, preparing my sore throat for speech. "In...po—et..."

Teresa leaned forward, moving a hand behind her ear. Heat rushed to my face, and I fought to push it down while also fighting to stay awake _and_ to breathe normally. "Pock...et."

"Oh!" Teresa stufffed a hand down one pocket, moving it around before pulling it out, having picked the wrong pocket. She stuffed it down the other one and fished out the capsule, the inside rather...empty, really. "Just wait here, Thomas. I just need to grab something."

Teresa sped off to another part of the Berg -which is WAY bigger than I remember it being- with the capsule in hand. Brenda, whom had longer hair and cleaner clothes/skin, walked up to me. I realized then that _everyone_ was cleaner and more...fresh, for lack of a better word.

She gave me a small smile, and everyone that could stand was soon surrounding me, feeding the small fear from all the attention and lack of space. "Hey, Thomas." I opened my mouth to say something, blinking from the dust in the air—"Goodnight, Thomas."

I was caught off guard. _What?_ Everyone was walking around with some sheets and something for the head, like a comfy bag or a bundle of extra sheets, laying on the benches and huddling close for sleep. I was the only one left all alone on my own bench, a comfy sheet beneath my head and another over me. "Go-Goodnight," I replied.

The lights turned off after a couple of minutes, and the only noises one could hear afterwards was that of people shuffling and turning, complaining about room or the blankets sometimes. But it was mostly silent, giving Thomas perfectly ample time to contemplate what happened.

 _What did Teresa want to get?_ Closing my eyes tight, I went through everything that I could remember, trying to make sense of what happened. But everything after Brenda said "Hey, Thomas." was a complete blank.

I sighed silently, not wanting to wake anyone else up. I closed my eyes and let my worn out body finally get some rest. Hands chased me again in this dream, trying to drag me someplace where my friends couldn't reach me. But I outran them the entire time, feeling as if freedom was in _my_ hands.

Until Teresa tripped me. Then I woke up, a light gasp echoing through the Berg. I felt angry at Teresa, feeling betrayed again as I could still feel the hands grabbing my legs, arms, torso, dragging me away somewhere I don't want to be. _It was just a dream. She didn't actually trip me and basically hand me over to the hands_.

But I still couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal.

 **Hello, this chapter was a bit longer than the others. Yay! Anyways, I really enjoy weiting this story and hope to continue this as well as write a new story. So, expect more chapters in the future.**

 **I'll see you all in the next chapter. Or story, whichever.**

 **Poem 1:**

 **Roses are red**

 **My lips are blue**

 **Death is coming**

 **But I love _you_**

 **Poem 2:**

 **Your blood is red**

 **Violets are blue**

 **I am coming**

 **I still love you**

 **Poem 3:**

 **Your blood is red**

 **Your lips are blue**

 **Death loves you, still**

 **But I hate you**

 **End of Poems**

 **Were my poems great? Say so in the review which one is your favorite so far, and what you think of them.**

 **P.S. I would love to hear your theories of the meaning behind the poems, so if you want to, write what you think the poem is saying.**


	4. The Eye of The Storm

**Hello! The last chapter was pretty confuzzling. I know that, and I wrote it that way because _Thomas_ was confuzzled. You are in Thomas' point of view, which means when Thomas is confuzzled, you should be confuzzled instead of being omnipotent or something. Which is why I wrote it that way.**

 **And yes, Thomas is having hallucinations of Janson. There is a reason, but you have to wait until Thomas knows the reason. Which won't be for a while. And yes, there is a reason behind Thomas' forgetfulness.**

 **It might not be a pleasant one, but it's a reason. Anyways, I need to stop talking, and start writing about the story.**

 **Anyways, poems are down below, as always, and without further ado, let's begin!**

 **(If anyone understands where I got that from, you need to get a life.)**

I blearily opened my eyes, feeling rested and relaxed. Remembering what I could remember from last night, I turned my head to the side, and noticed that nobody was there. Scratch that, Teresa was the only one there, with her tiny lab set up in a corner of the wooden hut. "Teresa." I winced mentally at how weak and scratchy my voice was, but Teresa heard me and lifted her head away from whatever she was doing.

"Thomas." Her smile was fake, plastered on just like with the black female nurse that had walked up to her. "You're finally awake." Teresa didn't sound that happy, but at least she made an effort to try. Large eye bags were prominent on her face, something I didn't understand until my brain helpfully provided what eye bags meant.

Swallowing, I once again prepared my voice to talk. "Why aren't you asleep?" Teresa looked back down at what she was doing with the chemicals, blinking slowly as if she was questioning what she was doing.

"Because I need to make this." My eye twitched in irritation, annoyed by how vague her answer was. _She could become the next Riddler_. I blinked, not sure what that meant but not really caring, knowing that it was an insult of some kind.

"Can't you at least tell me?" My throat didn't feel sore anymore, and I made a mental note of that. "What did you want to get on the Berg?"

Teresa blankly stared at me, fully conscious of what I was saying. "Excuse me?" I didn't understand what that meant, but I honestly didn't care. "I don't understand what-!"

"Slim it." Teresa shut up after that, not even trying to defend herself, which starkly contrasted her personality before he was caught. Writing another observation, I continued. "You took the capsule from me, saying for me to wait and that you were just getting something. What was it?"

Teresa muttered something under her breath, and my eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"

"I said I was getting something to help you breathe better." Teresa glared me down, clearly not going to say anything more on the subject.

"Okay, fine. I just have one more question." Teresa didn't object, so I asked, "How long was I in WCKD?"

Teresa looked away from me, silently judging whether or not she should tell me. _It's my right to know how long I was trapped for._ She sighed and her shoulders drooped, betraying how tired she really was. "You were in there for a year and three months, I think."

I could feel my mouth hanging like an idiot, but I didn't care. "A whole _year and three months_?!" Teresa nodded, not meeting my eyes, instead choosing to stare at her lab equipment."So I was kept under for an entire _year and three months_?"

This time Teresa looked at me like I suddenly grew horns and wings. "You weren't kept under the entire time younwere there. Janson..." She left the sentence hanging, clearly uncomfortable with what she was going to say.

"What?" I gripped the edge of my bed and lifted myself into a sitting position, sighing at how _good_ it felt to stretch and move again. But I stayed on task, wanting to know what Teresa was going to say about Janson. "What about Janson?"

Teresa's long hair hid her face from me as she turned back to her "lab." "Teresa, I'm waiting." As she turned back to me, my heart sank, for she was desperately holding back tears.

"Thomas...I, I couldn't stop him, I couldn't save myself and I couldn't even help you. I'm such a failure!" The tears she withheld became too much and she started sobbing where she stood.

I pushed the sheets off of me and swung my legs over the side of the bed, carefully testing out whether I could stand or not. Once I knew I could stand, I walked over to her corner and hugged her, trying to help her calm down. She sobbed into my shoulder, saying things like "I couldn't do it," and "I should have kept you away from him."

Minho entered the little hut with panic on his face, thinking something had happened to Teresa. He saw me hugging Teresa, trying to help her, and our eyes met. "Teresa. what happened?" Minho walked over to us and I took a step back, giving Minho more space. He placed a hand on Teresa's shoulder, getting Teresa to look up at him, her eyes red from the tears.

"Teresa, what did they do to you?" Teresa shook her head, implying that she couldn't tell us.

"I can't talk about that. But I'm not crying because they did something to _me_." She at last met my eyes, and held them. "I'm crying because I couldn't help Thomas when he needed someone to be on his side, and instead I just _watched_ what Janson did to him."

 _What? What did Janson do to_ me Minho was standing there, his confusion in plain view, and I guess my face was the same because Teresa sniffled and looked down, shaking her head.

"I...I really can't talk right now." Teresa made for the exit, but I reached out and took ahold of her shoulder.

"Teresa." She wouldn't look at me anymore, instead she turned her face away from me. "What did Janson do to me?" Teresa stubbornly refused to even glance at me, let alone answer. "Teresa, I deserve to know what happened to me while I was in WCKD."

Teresa stood there silently for a moment, her shoulders rigid as if she was a deer in headlights, before her shoulders sagged in defeat. She trudged over to her lab station and drew out the capsule that I gave to her yesterday. It was empty. _Wait..._

I narrowed my eyes and took a sharp intake of breath when I saw that no, it wasn't empty. It just _looked_ empty, but actually had a clear liquid inside. "This is a memory wipe. It wipes away—It—I'm sorry, they..." Teresa's mouth didn't seem to want to work.

I took both of her shoulders, looking her right in the eye. "Teresa, did they do anything to you?" Teresa shrugged off my hands, looking down.

"No. I—I'm fine." The tone she held made it bery clear that she wanted us to slim it. Teresa took in a shuddery breath. "I just don't like talking about this, but I'm fine."

She cleared her throat and continued where she left off. "This memory wipe, when taken into the body, will wipe away memories from then to a few hours later. They—They forced me to...make these every day, alongside the cure."

She looked down at her feet, shuffling a bit before speaking. "When you guys were breaking in, I had been forced to show the nurses and doctors how to make the cure, and then I was going to...die." Her voice broke at the end, and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears in. "Anyways, I was going to die before Sonya came in and saved me. But that was all that happened."

"They," Teresa spoke slowly, swallowing as she fought to speak, " _Janson_ wanted me to make the memory wipes, me specifically. So he could—could—do things without people remembering. So that you couldn't remember your stay."

 _Why? Why wouldn't he want me to remember?_ "Wait, but _what_ did he do?" Teresa paused, her hands and knees shaking.

"Hey, it's alright if you don't want to say anything," Minho said, giving Teresa a way out of the torture she was going through.

"No." She spat out that word with enough force to blast down a wall. "I need to say it. Thomas deserves to know what he went through."

"Thomas." I focused in on Teresa, not caring about anything else by this point. "I was the one who had to administer the memory wipe, and then take your blood. Then, he...he...would hit you, force you down onto the ground and...and he would choke you, making you go through _torture_ before he would just, _not_ be Janson. He would become an entirely different person the next day, being nice and gentle, saying such _horrible_ things about our friends, saying that they forgot you and that they _hate_ you, such things that I began to combine the sedative with the memory wipe so you wouldn't remember anything about what he said or did."

Here Teresa shivered, her legs giving out and she crumpled onto the floor. "Teresa!" Minho rushed to her side, placing two fingers to her neck before slapping her face. "Thomas, get some water and splash it on her face!"

I looked around before seeing a bucket of water for...things, which had been left untouched. I heaved it up over Teresa's head before dumping the water on her face. She gasped and sat up so fast she hit her head against Minho's unsuspecting face.

"Ow!" both shouted at the same time, clutching their heads in pain.

"Minho, you alright?" Minho nodded, his forehead a bright red. I get up, not really sure what to do at tuis point, so I move on to Teresa. "Teresa?" She hesitated before looking up at me, seeming so vulnerable. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." Teresa opened her mouth, as if to say something, but she closed it again and didn't say anything.

Her face looked so conflicted. A headache formed and I wanted to take a look outside, see how everyone else was doing. But my legs felt so tired and weak, and when I tried to walk to the door my legs burned as if I ran for an hour, leaving me to collapse onto the floor.

"Thomas!" I was rolled over, breathing like I ran a marathon, my tongue feeling strangely smooth against the roof of my mouth. Teresa was there, opening my mouth and clapping a hand against her mouth in horror. She allowed Minho to push her out of the way, standing there for a bit before running out of the hut.

Minho felt my chest and frowned, laying a hand on the left side for a bit. He placed two fingers against my neck after that, feeling for something that I don't really know. His frown deepened, with a worried look overtaking his face. Something was crawling up and down my legs, urging me to scratch my legs, but my back burned whenever I tried to sit up.

"Thomas, stop trying to sit up." I listened to Minho, trusting him down to my core. "Here, let's get you back up on that bed." Minho heaved me up onto the bed with a grunt, getting me as comfy as possible.

The crawling never stopped, and the itching seemed to grow worse. My legs wanted to constantly move, my mouth was dry, a headache was pounding away at my skull, and my legs still burned from trying to walk out of the hut. People ran in and out, trying to make me feel better but not really knowing how to. The strangers sat at my bedside, looking inside my mouth, pulling down my eyelids, looking inside my ears, at my fingernails, feeling my hands and feet, and asking me how I felt.

"I feel like shit." They just looked at each other like I missed a joke or something. The female looked back at me and asked me to _elaborate_.

I rolled my eyes, but answered anyways. "I have a headache, I feel like I just ran away from grievers ten times in a row, and it feels like something is crawling up and down my legs." They nodded and carved something into this piece of wood, telling me that they also used to work in WCKD before they saw what they were doing to me and other immunes, so they decided to help.

Apparently they were doctors in practice or whatever, so they should be able to work out what is happening to me, and Teresa may be able to contribute. But they told me to stay in bed, do not move, and ask if I need anything. Then they left, with me feeling shitty and with little hope that they will find anything. Then something they said hit me.

 _"Yeah, we saw what they were doing to you and the other immunes, so we wanted to help."_ That was what the female said, but according to what Teresa had said there were no other immunes being held. So they were with WCKD when Teresa was working there, but until they saw what they were doing to _me_ , _that_ was when they decided to help? Something just felt... _off_ , but I couldn't exactly say it without looking paranoid.

Just, Teresa and the strangers' stories feel _off_ in a way that I just cannot explain. "Oh, slim it, Thomas," I whisper to myself. "Nothing's wrong, those strangers are just Greenie's, nothing else."

No matter how many times I spoke to myself, I just couldn't help but see those Greenies in the same light as Janson. I wouldn't trust anyone blindly again, ever since the betrayal of not just Janson and all of the doctors there, but Teresa's as well. Never again will I let myself stay blind to the evil in people.

I just can't lose anyone ever again.

 **Hey guys! Nice to finally post this chapter out. Does anyone like where this story is going? Because I _know_ where this is going, and Thomas does have a _serious_ problem. Wait, why am I saying anything about that? You already know that Thomas is probably sick with something _other_ than the Flare.**

 **Seriously, did they cure every other disease like the cold or the flu? Because nobody is sick unless they have the Flare. Well, sign me up for that world as an immune and I'll welcome this world.**

 **Anyways, hope you guys have a happy winter, or summer, depending on where you live. I'll see you in the next chapter/story.**

 **Poem:**

 **My life is a lie**

 **I was born in the fall**

 **And like my poor sister**

 **Demons burned down my wall**

 **My wall that protected me from all sorts of things**

 **And kept me above the depression they bring**

 **And now that my life is becoming a myth**

 **I see that _I_ was a fool to begin with**

 **End of Poem**

 **Yes, I know that it resembles a poem from earlier, and honestly I love that poem. But I wanted to write this poem, to change it without permanently destroying the other poem. So this is what I came up with.**

 **Why am I explaining myself to you? I can do what I want, and most of you won't ever care about these poems anyways. I could write crappy poems and none of you would even care about that. But I an not going to write crap poems because my story is already crap and I want a little cherry to go along with the crap you already read. So, there's your cherry, and enjoy!**


	5. Hurt Thomas (Filler)

**Okay, so I just have to say that this chapter is just filler. Nothing else. Not really contributing to the plot and will probably be very short. Just saying.**

 **So, here we go!**

I was forced to stay in bed, examined day in and day out as my condition seemed to get worse. My heart had forgotten its beat, and was constantly fluctuating in the rhythm it was beating to. My skin was pale and my tongue was smooth, not to mention also pale. Cold hands and feet was the least of my worries, as I was constantly dizzy or having massive headaches. And whenever I would try to walk, my legs would burn from the effort, leaving me bed-ridden.

I was consistently tired, craving dirt, mouth almost always dry, and there were sore red cracks at the corners of my mouth. This strange and frankly unpleasant crawling sensations wouldn't leave my legs unless I moved them, and if I let my legs rest it would start up again. But if I kept moving my legs I would get really tired and forced to stop moving, and then the sensations would come back. And the anxiety was the worst.

I was seeing Janson at the worst times, sneering at me or saying the worst things about my friends, and he appeared so many times I started to think that maybe, just maybe, what he was saying about my frienda were true. That Newt killed himself because he couldn't bear me anymore, that Minho would abandon me at any moment, that Teresa would rat me out to WCKD, and that everyone I trusted would stab me in the back for their own survival. It started to show, and they were worried for me, and I knew that the things about everyone that I knew stabbing me in the back or abandoning me weren't true.

But the fears of Teresa and the Sand Twins just wouldn't go away. They seemed to get worse. If I even saw the Sand Twins near a knife I would do anything to take the weapon away and have a panic attack if I couldn't do it. Teresa was the worst, for I couldn't trust her with anything and would talk with her for as long as I could before she would leave. I was paranoid and I knew it, but talking about it with the Sand Twins or Teresa was a big no-no, for they could use it as a reason to keep me in here, or worse, get rid of me.

I just ended up stressing myself out, and it wasn't helping me fight off what was wrong with me. I just got more dizzy and headaches were so frequent that I couldn't even move about on my bed without help. Teresa couldn't even look at me anymore, tearing up and running out, and that was when I noticed how I was affecting others.

Everyone was horrified at how bad I was, and they were stressed out the longer I went on like this. I couldn't talk anymore from the pain, and I was always sleeping to try and keep the pain away. Teresa started trying out different things, trying her best to take care of me, though she wasn't very optimistic.

Then, I woke up feeling only a little dizzy. That was three months after we escaped WCKD. Three months of torture. Of feeling not-so-well. I wasn't able to even walk outside, courtesy of Teresa, but I was able to walk around the hut with the help of others around me. Since I felt like I shouldn't ask people to help me, I never walked about the hut and just stayed in bed all day.

Teresa had been talking with the Sand Twins more often. She seemed to be on the fence about something, and would always look back at me when talking. But now she wasn't talking to them anymore, spending more time trying to get me to eat soybeans and baked fruits.

That is where I am now, my meals consisting of soybeans, baked fruit, and peas. We ran out of animals to eat long ago. So, all we had was some fruit and different types of vegetables, but I was only allowed those meals that I listed out before. To help me feel better.

The door opened, and a flash of sunlight entered the hut, beckoning me to go outside, and I could hear the splashes of waves and laughing. Then Teresa shut the door behind her, blocking out anything of the outside world and wiping some sweat off of her forehead. "It's getting a little hot out there." She pulled out a stool, dragging it along the dirt floor before coming to a rest by my head, sitting down on the stool with some soybeans and cooked fruits. "How are you feeling?"

I took the fruits, purposefully leaving the soybeans on the tray that they had obviously stolen from the city that WCKD is now residing in. "Like shit. It doesn't feel like it's helping anymore." I took a bite out of one of the baked fruits (which was an apple), chewing thoughtfully before taking another bite.

"Well, that..." The sentence was left hanging in the air, and we both knew how it would end. She got up and gave me the soybeans, glaring when I moved to dump it on the floor. "Eat the soybeans. If I find them on the floor, I'll force feed you."

I nodded fast, knowing that despite the dizzyness that I was feeling was now worse, she would go through with that threat. She smiled and ruffled my hair. "I'll be back with some water, okay?" Teresa opened the door and let out a long sigh. "We seriously need to get you a window, the air is so stale here."

Scoffing, I said, "Don't I know it?" The door closed, and I was left to myself. My vision blurred constantly, but it was normal now.

"Hey, Tommy." I shut my eyes tightly, gripping the sheets and taking a shuddery breath. _He's not real. He's not real._

Footsteps, and then a dip in the bed. It felt like he was really there, but I knew better. It was just an hallucination. The arms circling around me, the man nuzzling into my neck, the breath tickling me, it was all fake. Nothing was real. He wasn't real.

"Tommy, look at me." It was so hard not to look at the man hugging me, the growl that he made sounding as if he was really there. _But he's not there. He's on the other side of the ocean._

"Tommy." I felt his grip tighten, and I bit my lip. I shouldn't look at him, he's just fake. But my eyelids opened up anyways, and I saw his smile widen. "I love your eyes. They're just as beautiful as the rest of you."

My entire body shuddered, and I closed my eyes again. He growled in my ears, and I shivered even more. "Look at me, Tommy." I shouldn't. I won't.

I refused, and pushed where I felt he was, but all that I pushed was empty air. All of him faded away, but I could still remember, still feel where he had touched me.

Teresa found me on the floor trying to crawl to the door, my skin bruised from where I crashed into the ground.

 **Hi, remember, this is just a filler. But I like writing this chapter because all it does is just fill you in. It doesn't do anything else. I like this.**

 **See you in the next story/chapter.**

 **Poem:**

 **My heart feels like ice**

 **The lonely is chasing me**

 **Can you stop them?**

 **I just want to be free.**


	6. I’m Back to Square One

**Hi! This is probably going to take a while before I post this, so I just want to say that it is my fault, because I need to make the chapters feel less like shit. All of my stories just feel like shit, never good enough, never slow enough, always too fast, too boring, too much action and less character development, too little dialogue, too much dialogue, characters always on the run, never explaining enough, explaining too much, etc.**

 **Do you see how much I go through when writing these stories? I always feel like nobody likes my stories, they all hate it, I hate it, and when people say they like the story I need to publish this chapter right now, make it better, less like shit, need to work harder, faster, stop and just write more, make the chapter long, keep it from being short, think of something to make the story more interesting. So, I go through all of this suffereing just to make a chapter, only for all of my effort to just seem meaningless when I realize that nobody cares, _I_ don't care.**

 **So, I basically am depressed a bit any time I write these chapters. Any time I sit down. "I could be working on my story."**

 **Any time I'm eating. "I could be working on my stories."**

 **When I am watching videos and listening to music. "This sounds nice, I could incorporate this into the poems in my story."**

 **So, I am a workaholic, don't be like me. Take a break and enjoy life, then tell me about it so I can be jealous and want to stop writing as much. Well, that's all I have to say. Let's get right into the story.**

I open my eyes to find darkness. Nothing illuminating the tiny hut. Complete darkness, no stars out through the doorway, no windows, no lantern, nothing. Just my breath and sometimes some laughter from down on the beach.

Yet I don't feel alone. I hear my breath, and when I move my feet to get rid of that crawling feeling I hear the shuffling of the sheets, and I can hear my heart beating to a different tune than it should, but other than that it's complete silence. So why do I feel this way?

At first, I only hear it. Someone else breathing next to the bed, and when I reach my hand out to feel the person I only feel air, but the breathing never stops, only grows louder. Then I feel the warmth of a breath on my neck, and I throw my hands around, catching nothing but air, but the breathing never stops, the tickling of their breath never ceases to exist. Nobody's here, it's just another one of those hallucinations.

Then I feel a pressure on my stomach, yet I know by now that there is no way that there is someone on me, there is no way someone can be on me as I am throwing my hands around and still feeling nothing. My arms grow tired so fast that I just blink and then they're on the bed, burning like someone just dumped scalding hot water on them. I can feel someone pinning them down on the bed, and I shut my eyes tight, chanting in my head "There's no one there, it's just your imagination."

But it felt so real, my arms not being able to budge, the breath still tickling my neck. Not like the headache is helping any. I opened my eyes and saw a figure of someone on top of me, their head close to my neck. "It's okay, Tommy. I'm here." The figure nuzzled my neck, and my breath hitched, my heart beating frantically.

"Aww, is Tommy scared?" The figure's head lifted from my neck and leaned so close to my face that our lips were only a centimeter apart. I could see the face of the figure, and the scream building up died instantly, my eyes wide and unblinking, forgetting about the headache and my restless legs. A hand gently stroked through my hair, the smile that had annoyed me for so long now feeding the panic in my soul. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you, I won't leave you."

The hand in my hair drifted down to my cheek, and my heart pounded against my chest, irregular and faster than it should be. He leaned down to my ear, my breath fast and sharp. "Not like how Newt did." The scream that had faded away now came back with a vengeance, and I let it out. I screamed until my throat went raw, and the pressure left, my arms able to move and thrash alongside my legs.

Even though it burned to do so, I continued to thrash and shriek, feeling my already-low-energy supply depleting fast. Light flooded the hut and Minho appeared by my side, trying to get me to calm down, but I wouldn't. I couldn't calm down, for he was still there, waiting for me to stop before pouncing once more.

"Thomas, what happened?" Minho left my view as my leg replaced where his face was a second ago. "Holy shit, Thomas, slim it!" As my tired limbs slowly cane to a stop, I turned my head to the rest of the hut and saw Frypan, Brenda, Teresa, Gally, Vince, and the Sand Twins standing there in the hut with wide eyes, more kids trying to peer into the hut from outside.

I felt the headache coming back, and I groaned mentally as I remembered the last one. "Thomas?" My eyes shifted over to observe Minho, and he swallowed. "Did something frighten you?"

A nod. Minho's mouth formed a frown, and I didn't like Minho frowning. "What did?" I swallowed, My mouth feeling dry and sore.

"I saw Janson." I could just imagine everyone frowing or frightened, but I didn't look away from Minho for a second, fearing that if I did, Janson would be standing there with that grin on his face. "And he—it wasn't really Janson, but it felt like he was really there." I winced, trying to talk through the pain.

I looked away from Minho, ashamed, and did a double take. Janson had been standing right by Teresa, a gun in his hand aimed at Teresa's head, and he winked before I blinked in surprise. "Look, it was nothing, just a hallucination." My friends didn't look convinced, but Brenda closed the door because this conversation was private, even chasing the children away when they didn't listen, and the Sand Twins left of their own volition.

Aris, Sonya, Harriet, and Jorge also entered the hut, taking up the rest of the space in the hut. I felt so tiny and vulnerable, and I could see weapons. _They came here to kill me._ I shoved that thought from my mind, reminding myself that they were my friends. They wouldn't hurt me.

Minho looked at me, and I could see the stress eating away at him. "Was it another hallucination?" A nod.

I could see the way everyone looks uncomfortable. Frypan, holding a tray of soybeans and -you guessed it- more baked fruit and some peas. "Here, for you." He set it on top of my legs, and I thanked him, but I was too tired to even lift a finger.

Brenda, noticing this, walked up to the side of the bed and sat down at the edge. "Do you need help?" I really wanted to say no, to be able to say that I don't need help eating, but I could only dip my head down in a yes motion. She helped to feed me, and in front of everyone I felt like an embarrassment, that I should just go kill myself.

But I hid those feelings, thinking that she just cared a lot about me, she's not trying to embarrass me and isn't embarrassing me. "Feeling better?" Sonya asked, her tone sounding hopeful. I shook my head, and wanted to take my answer back when her face fell.

Then the bed—no, the ground was starting to shake. It shook momentarily before it stopped, leaving us confused in its wake. Then the ground shook again, and this time I could hear the faint sound of an explosion. We all heard it, judging by the glances we all were making. "WCKD," Harriet breathed out, saying out loud what we were all thinking.

"Hurry!" Vince started taking hold of everything, telling everyone to move before heading to where I am assuming the other immunes are living. "Come on, we have no time to lose!" I tried to get up, but a wave of dizzyness had me throwing up on the floor, ny vision blurring. Everything hurt, and I was being... moved?

"...mas! Thomas!" A blink later and everything was sharp and the headache came back. It wasn't that bad yet, but it probably will be soon. After a second or two I realized that the dark clouds I could see in the night sky weren't the ones moving that fast, my bed was the one moving.

Then Teresa's face appeared on the left side of my bed, giving me a worried look. "Thomas, how are you feeling right now?" I raised an eyebrow, questioning why she is asking this _now_ of all times. "Please, just answer the question."

"I feel like shit. Happy?" Teresa bit her lip in thought, before moving out of my sight. Darkness was creeping up in the corners of my eye, and I forced myself to stay awake.

"Minho, try to lift him out of the bed." _Teresa_.

"What? Why would I do _that_?" Minho sounded a bit out of breath, probably from pushing the bed, and then the bed stopped moving forward.

"Because we wouldn't be able to run away from WCKD while pushing a bed! Now, please just do it." A sigh, then a moment of silence. Then I feel arms lifting me out of the bed, and I was being held bridal-style or whatever they called this hold.

"Happy now?" I couldn't see Minho's face, but Teresa looked relieved. She nodded, and then I could hear Frypan shouting, "Some WCKD soldiers are coming up the hill!"

Teresa shouted back. "From where?!" Frypan most likely pointed which direction, for Teresa gestured for Minho to follow. I could feel Minho running, and could hear something -most likely the grass Teresa was talking about while I was in bed- crunching underneath Minho's feet.

Gunshots were echoing from behind us, most likely from where the immunes were living. I couldn't look back, for I was too tired to even lift my head. Thank god the headache decided not to get worse and was just hanging about, though those sore red cracks in my mouth weren't helping at all. I couldn't even respond that much anymore, because moving my lips would just make those cracks hurt more.

I slightly shivered from the cold, wishing that I had a jacket or at least something to cover up my feet. "Aris, how are we doing?" Minho was barely out of breath, and I found myself feeling a bit envious at how he could run while carrying someone and still be able to talk while I couldn't even walk without being short of breath. Actually, this was my first time outside ever since we escaped from WCKD.

 _Why can't the universe just let me enjoy being outside without the looming thought of WCKD chasing us?_ "Not so well. WCKD has taken at least half of the immunes, and has also taken Brenda and Harriet." Aris could barely talk between breaths, but the message had carried through nonetheless. _WCKD is winning_.

Another pair of feet was crunching the grass from the left side, but I couldn't see who it was. "WCKD is right outside Thomas' hut right now. I suggest we hurry." _Frypan_. Teresa was looking back at me right now, with some sort of gleam in her eyes that I couldn't pinpoint.

"Minho, stop." _Teresa_. Teresa had stopped in front of us and Minho slowed a bit, but didn't stop until Teresa grabbed his arm and pulled, almost dropping me onto the floor.

"What the fuck was that for, Teresa?" Though it was dark, I could tell that Teresa was looking at Minho with the same face she had made when she betrayed us to WCKD. I had a bad taste in my mouth, knowing where tuis could be headed.

"Teresa?" My voice was hoarse and I had a hard time talking, the cracks feeling like fire and I could taste a hint of blood. She looked at me with what I think is worry, but I couldn't tell. The soldiers' yelling was getting louder.

"Come on, Minho. We have to go." Aris was in my view now, tugging at the arm Teresa had her grip in.

"No." Her tone was firm and her grip was as well. "You're not leaving. Not with Thomas."

"You're with them, aren't you?" Minho's accusation was followed with angry and shocked silence, so thick that you could cut it with one of the knives we stole from WCKD. "I knew it."

"No!" She clapped a hand over her mouth and spoke quieter, trying not to catch the attention of the WCKD soldiers that were getting closer. "I'm not with them."

"Then why are you saying these things?" A step closer and I could see Teresa more clearly in the dim light we had from the full moon tonight.

"Minho, we have to go!" But Minho wasn't budging, probably glaring at Teresa, yet Teresa wasn't budging as well. My feet felt like ice, and I knew that a decision had to be made before I froze out here.

"Because I'm looking out for Thomas." Our eyes met, and she swallowed in fright before looking back up at Minho. "If you don't agree to put Thomas on the ground and leave, I will scream."

Silence. The headache was growing worse, and I could hardly think due to the pain. "I will not give Thomas back to those people." And then Minho was running, Teresa was screaming, and I had no clue where we were going and honestly didn't care as long as I wasn't going back to WCKD, to Janson.

The thunderous footsteps of the soldiers were growing louder, and I could hear Teresa ratting out on us. _Once a traitor, always a traitor_. I couldn't breathe, couldn't even think for her betrayal felt like a splash of ice cold water.

My headache was getting worse, my head throbbing with the pain, and the cold was biting at my feet, which was also tingling with the crawling sensations. The cold was giving me a bit more focus, but I was so tired, I just wanted to sleep. _I could just close my eyes for a second_...

A gunshot rang out, and I found myself tumbling on the floor with Minho tumbling in another direction, rolling along the ground before coming to a stop. Minho was screaming in pain somewhere nearby, but I couldn't tell from where. Blood was oozing out from a small cut on my cheek, and I was just laying there, trying to make sense of what just happened. The headache wasn't helping.

Two soldiers stopped for me, and the rest ran either to Minho or Aris and Frypan, searching for the other two. The two soldiers by me lifted me up, and one of them whistled. "Damn, this one is light as a feather." _Oh yeah?_ That soldier was definitely not happy when one of my thrashing feet hit his junk.

"Fuck!" Pleasure ran through my body, feeling delighted at how the soldier fell to the ground, holding his private part and cursing me out. The other soldier was a bit more careful and lifted me up like how Minho did. The energy had left me after that one violent kick to the nuts, so I was left to be lifelessly carried to where the immunes had been living, and where almost all of the gunshots were originating from.

Everything from there was a blur. I couldn't remember anything other than the soldiers, guns shooting, handcuffs, and...Janson. He was standing there, on one of the multiple Bergs that weren't there before, his face lighting up when he saw me. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach, and my heart was beating so loudly I was sure everyone around me could hear it.

I don't remember too much, but I do remember Janson taking me from the soldier's arms, walking deeper into the rather large Berg. It was even larger than the last Berg I was in, with multiple short corridors branching off from the main one, and the pilot's cockpit blocked off with a wall and a door. The trip to the room I was staying in was short, I think, and Janson had placed me gently onto the bed, very different from how I remembered him.

Though I don't even recall most of my life, and what I remember of Janson was at least over a year old, so it wasn't the most _reliable_. But I think it is safe to say that Janson wasn't going to be super nice and gentle after a year or so, escpecially if he's still able to shoot down teens and children without even the slightest hint of remorse. Then why was he acting this way?

He was rumaging through a bag that was laying on a table, and that was when I took my time to process what was going on through my headache. I was on a bed, but not a hospital bed, that was big enough for only one person. The room was mostly barren, with only a small table on the right side of the bed. That was it, nothing else.

"Look at you." His voice was calm and his creepy and annoying as fuck smile was still on his face, but now the smile was just creepy. "You're all skin and bones. Did your friends starve you?"

I wanted to shout, to scream bloody murder, but I couldn't even move my mouth without the horrible pain erupting, so I just glared at him with as much hate as I could muster at this point. "What, are you giving me the silent treatment?" Janson pulled out a syringe, and my heart started to trip over itself in its haste to pick up more speed. I'm pretty sure that it was bad for my heart to do that, but I honestly couldn't care by now.

"Come on, Tommy." A low growl emitted from my throat, and my hands slowly balled into fists. Arms spread out, Janson grinned at my reaction. "Ah, there's the Tommy I know and love!" _Wait, what?_

He pulled my right arm away from my side, rolling up my sleeve as he gently swabbed a small portion of my arm. "Okay, open your mouth for me, Tommy." He frowned at my hiss when I tried to say something. "Tommy, you better stop or I _will_ be forced to take proper measures."

That took the wind out of me. Janson's face lit up when I stopped hissing. "Good boy!" I couldn't exactly answer as he pushed the syringe through my skin, frowning when he saw how my skin crumbled around the hole. "My, what did they do to you?"

"Nothing." Another hiss of pain escaped as I answered without thinking. Janson took the syringe out and gently placed a bandage on top of where the syringe had entered my skin. He frowned when he noted how my face was scrunched up in pain.

"Okay, open your mouth." I shook my head, dizzy from the action. Janson forced my mouth open, and I yelped in pain when the red cracks felt like they had burst into flames. "Oh god," Janson breathed out, examining the rest of my mouth before letting me close it.

He then put restraints on me once more, getting up to leave. "Wait here, Tommy. I'll be back." Janson never did come back. At least, I think he didn't.

Who knows by now if what I remember actually happened? What if I never actually escaped? I just couldn't breathe at the thought of my friends never actually being there. The dark tendrils at the corner of my eyes now was more prominent, and I didn't care at this point. It had already been thirty minutes judging from the clock.

Janson wasn't coming back. Nobody was coming back. All of my friends were trying to get to freedom, to fight back another day. But it just waan't going to happen. As long as Janson was alive, those chains would never completely disappear.

But if Janson dies, we are all free. That was my final thought before the darkness creeped over. The panic that usually came with it now relaxed me, for why wake up when Janson is going to be there?

The hand dream replayed itself. except now when Teresa tripped me the hands dragged me through a maze of white hallways to a room with a bed and lots of medical machines. Janson was there, standing to the side and observing me with the same creepy and annoying smile. But the Sand Twins were the main attention, guiding the hands to put me in the chair and restrained me with the same restraints all the beds had nowadays, holding different tools. They pulled down my eyelids, checked my mouth, looked at my fingernails, felt my hands and feet, checked my temperature, and asked me questions I didn't want to answer to.

The female grew tired of my silence and pulled on my hair, my face scrunching up in pain. "Listen to me, Thomas. If you don't answer, I'll kill your friends myself." Then I woke up to the sound of a beeping monitor.

The beeps matched my beating heart, following the improvised tune beat for beat. Everything other than the monitor and my breathing was silent, still as a deer caught in headlights. I couldn't hear anybody, and so I relaxed, breathing out a sigh as I was alone.

Then the door slid open, and in walked the people I hate most. "Hi, Tommy. Glad to see you're awake. Shall we begin your examination?"

 **Hello! If anyone was wondering, Janson calls Thomas Tommy because he heard Newt say it and was like, "I like that nickname. I'll call Thomas Tommy, too." And he likes to put Thomas in a lot of pain when it doesn't threaten Thomas' life.**

 **Janson was gentle because—I shouldn't say it now, I should pretend you are Thomas and knows what he knows. So, just assume.**

 **Also, this chapter was shit, I know. But I am not even Thomas' age yet. By the way, I learned in the films and the books that Thomas was about sixteen, and he was played by an actor who's, like, in his late twenties. So...**

 **I'll see you in the next story/chapter. Buh bye!**

 **(Ten points to those who get the reference.)**

 **Poem:**

 **My inner demons like to fight**

 **And I can't see a thing**

 **But I know from experience**

 **That no one likes begging**

 **So I have to work it out**

 **Have to fight on my own**

 **And when someone helps me**

 **I don't feel all alone**

 **But no one helps**

 **Because no one knows**

 **How much I suffer**

 **As I fight inner foes**

 **End of Poem**

 **So, that was supposed to be freeform, but I guess poems write themselves. Well, hope you liked that one.**


	7. Some More Creepy Janson

**Hey, listen! This chapter is absolute garbage and shit! So, if you don't want your eyes to get burned, leave now! I've decided that there might be some weirdo Janson and freaked out Thomas—Okay, fine, a lot of creepy Janson and spooked Thomas just kinda there. I'm guilty!**

 **Anyways, I suck at writing, my plots are messed up, and there are going to be creepy vibes in this and absolutely multiple chapters from here on out. So, this chapter is just Creepy Janson and Poor Thomas.**

 **Also, very long chapter. Get ready for a lot of reading.**

 **Well, time to get started!**

I'm sitting on the same bed Janson had put me on, with the Sand Twins on my left and right. The female on my right has a smile that is obviously fake and the male on the left doesn't even try, carrying a sadistic grin as he sat down on a chair. Janson had left before, talking about meeting my friends or something, but I couldn't concentrate on what he was talking about.

"Hey, Thomas!" The female gave a "friendly" smile, going for the "sunshine and rainbows" kind of personality, though from her sparkling v-neck black dress that went to her ankles I could tell that she was working for WCKD long enough to become trusted personnel. The male was similarly dressed, with an ironed 3 piece suit, but I shouldn't focus on what they were wearing, I had to focus on how to get out of here. "How are you feeling?"

I couldn't respond in words, because those red cracks in my mouth were still very sore, so I manuevered my right hand to give her the middle finger. Her eye twitched, but she still kept up that sweet facade of hers, which made me want to say "Fuck you!", but I didn't. Because my mouth was sore, and I didn't want to appear weak in front of these two.

Her blond hair shone from the bright lights as she leaned over me, looking straight at my mouth. "Oh, is your mouth giving you trouble? Mr. Janson told me that your mouth was all messed up. Open your mouth, Thomas!" I rolled my eyes but complied anyways since by the way the male was grinning I assumed that Janson allowed them to "take appropriate measures" should I fail to comply.

"Oh, damn," the girl muttered, touching the cracks with her plastic gloves on, a hiss escaping my throat whenever she touched the cracks or opened my mouth a bit further. "Look at this." Her brother(?) eyed my mouth as well and whistled. "It got worse. Do you think it's moderate or severe anemia?"

"I don't know how severe, but most likely a deficiency in iron, since his tongue is swollen." The girl agreed, prodding at my mouth a bit further before finally ending my torture by pulling her hand out and letting me close my mouth. _God, that was pure_ torture.

Then the male pulled down my eyelid, the girl taking out a -was it a clipboard?- and feverishly writing something down with what I think is a pencil. The male would make a remark like "His lower eyelid is yellow and his face is pale," or "His hands are like ice!" She wrote down whatever he said, her sweet and cheery facade disappearing.

Then he started asking me questions, his sister(?) prepared to write down whatever I said. "How have you been feeling as of late? Did you have headaches or bouts of dizzyness lately?" I nodded. "Were they frequent?" Another nod.

Only the sounds of the monitor and scratches of pencil on paper reached my ears, other than the male and female asking me questions. There were no footsteps or voices outside of the room, doors weren't opening or closing and not even the sounds of the engines distracted me from what was happening inside the room. And I know I was still on the Berg, for my clothes were still dirty and ripped, and I could see my hands were still grimy, and the room was still the same.

"Are you feeling dizzy now?" I made a so-so gesture. I wasn't about to go vomit or anything, but the room was spinning a bit. Then the female joined in, saying, "Has your skin been crumbling, more of your hair falling out than it should be?" I nodded and then shook my head, which the girl recorded.

She asked me one more question. "Have you felt any better lately?" I took a moment to think, moving my legs to get rid of that stupid crawling sensation. Then I made the so-so gesture again, not quite sure whether or not there was any change. "Hmm, I see."

"We need to check for one more thing before we let you go, okay?" Not like I can do anything to stop them. Smiling, the girl nods to her brother(?), whp nods back. He then pulls out a stethoscope from somewhere and starts listening for my heart, checking out my pulse. "We're just looking to see if your anemia is severe or not," she explains to me, showing off her brilliant white teeth again.

Her brother stands up fast, knocking over his chair. "This is bad. His heart is beating erratically, which means that he has severe iron deficiency anemia. I'm going to go prepare the IV for iron therapy. Go get some of his blood to test in case we need a blood transfusion. If he dies on us..." The twins shuddered at the thought.

"A-All right!" Her brother sprints out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The woman curses as she rumages through her purse, muttering to herself before finding the elusive syringe. "Thomas, don't you dare fucking move, or else I'll kill you myself." Surprised by her sudden change in attitude, I didn't make it difficult for her to draw some of my blood. Sighing, she said, "Thanks," before carefully running to the door in her high heels.

But before she can reach the exit, the door swings open to reveal Janson entering the room, silent as always. Through the headache slowly making itself known and the sudden dizzyness that accompanies it, I managed to notice the female Sand Twin freezing in her spot. "J-Janson!" she squeaked, surprised by his sudden appearance. Just from his mere presence, she shrinks in on herself and takes a step back without Janson even moving a muscle.

Then Janson notices something in her hand. "Why do you have a syringe of Thomas's blood?" he growls out, and the woman takes another step back. Though the two figures were starting to blur, I could clearly see the Sand Twin quivering under Janson's intense and angry stare.

"H-He needs iron therapy because he has severe anemia, and in case that didn't work, we were going to use blood transfusion." When the blurry image of Janson moved forward, the Sand Twin took twice as many steps back, almost bumping into my chair bed thing. "And we need to know his blood type and how much iron he does have in his system in order to take care of him properly."

The air stilled as if it could feel the tension between the two. Even I held my breath, for I thought that I might witness another death right in front of me. Then Janson broke the silence. "He has severe anemia?" Right away I felt Janson's gaze upon me and my skin tingled with fear. "Will he die?"

I could almost hear the young adult gulp. "He has a chance to if we don't act quickly," she admitted in a quiet voice.

There was a moment of silence. "Get Dr Crawford over here now and fill her in on everything. If Thomas dies, it'll be on you," he snapped, prompting her to quickly leave.

Then silence was all that greeted my ear after that. Ugh, I should have asked someone for painkillers. My head ached, and bile just hung out at the base of my throat, waiting until it was the worst possible moment to finally surface. When she comes back, I'll ask her for something to help my head.

"Oh, you poor thing," Janson's voice whispered, close enough that I could feel his breath. I winced, not having the energy to jump at this point. "It must hurt so much. Don't worry, we'll help you," he murmured, sounding so reassuring yet not quite, too. Despite the struggle it took to keep my eyes open, I just couldn't fall asleep with Janson so close, his hand resting on my arm in a way that I would've called tenderly if it wasn't Janson.

"Tommy..." The way his tone sounded to me gave me the chills and got me to move my eyes and really look at Janson. Something in his eyes was just _unpleasant_. I couldn't quite define what it was, but it put me on edge, and I didn't like it. "The world likes to play with you, doesn't it?"

Confused by his words, I tilt my head to one side. "I was trying to take you back to harvest your blood, then trying to kill you, and now I am trying to keep you alive. Isn't that just _funny_ , Tommy?" Trying to hold myself back, I clench my jaw and ball my hand up into a fist, biting my lip as well.

" _Don't_ call me Tommy." Yelping in pain, I can taste a hint of blood in my mouth, but I couldn't hold it back. Then Janson frowned, as if I didn't get the joke.

He grabbed my wrist and squeezed, hard. It felt like he was going to break my wrist, and I tried to scream, but no noise came out of my throat. "I can call you whatever I want, Tommy. Next time you say anything like that, I will make _sure_ that your friends won't be able to see you again."

"But you said—!" The words came out as a hoarse whisper, and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep myself from yelling out in pain that erupted from the sore cracks.

"Oh, you'll still be able to meet them." Janson's annoying smile morphed into a sadistic smirk, his eyes holding a crazy look to them. I yanked at my wrists, hoping that Janson would let go of my wrist. "They just won't be able to see you, or _anything_. You want to know why, Tommy?"

I shook my head, wanting nothing more than for Janson to stop. "I'll rip their eyes out so they can't look at you ever again. Maybe I'll even make them mute so they can't talk to you. I hold all the cards here, and you better play smart if you want your friends all in one piece."

Tears were welling up in my eyes, and my voice cracked as I whispered, "Stop, please." The grip on my wrist loosened, and Janson seemed to have just noticed how much he was scaring me.

"I didn't mean to say all of those things, Tommy." Fingers gently rubbed where he was grabbing my wrist, soothing my fear a bit. Just enough for me to feel just a bit more safe, and if I closed my eyes, I could imagine Teresa as the one who was rubbing my aching wrist, humming a tune that she had learned a long time ago.

I woke up with a few bandages and a cather left in the wrist that had not been bruised. When I woke up, I felt much better than I remember having felt for the past few months. I was even startled by how good I felt after waking up. Of course I felt a bit of nausea and a slight headache, but my cracks had healed significantly, and all of the symptoms I had felt earlier were gone.

Of course, the room had changed from the Berg. The bed was big enough for at most two people, not _too_ wide but not so small that only one person could ever fit, and the floor had some sort of fluffy brown material. _A carpet_ , my head supplied, and that word felt so weird and yet normal on my tongue. _Carpet_.

A single lightbulb lit up the room, which had green walls and a bright blue ceiling with some white spots that resembled clouds. The bed sheets were white, and what my mind is calling a mattress was so bouncy that I just wanted to jump on it. Yet I chose not to, for I had just noticed something wrapped around my neck and waist. Not only that, but as I was sitting upright I could hear chains moving and felt my heart drop.

A chain was attached to the floor, close to the bathroom and snaked its way up to the bed and curled around me, and as I dreaded ended by something wrapped around my waist and was locked in place. I tugged on the material, pulling on it harder and harder, but to no avail. All I got from it was the knowledge that the material was tough and flexible, not to mention itchy and uncomfortable.

I sat on the bed just staring at the clock for about ten minutes before I decided to explore what I could. Sure enough I wasn't used to walking yet after being bed-ridden for so long, but I managed to catch on fast enough that I decided that I could try exploring the place without the fear of falling. After all, Janson could certainly find me just by following the long chain.

The first door wouldn't open for me, undoubtedly leading to the hallway. The second door opened up just fine, but the problem was very clear from the start; there was no lock. And it was the bathroom. At least there still was a door.

Searching a bit, I found where some clothes had been folded and put away. They were inside a big box of wood that had a bunch of handles that I could pull on, revealing another box inside of the big one that hid different items inside. There was one for clothing and another for boxers. That time in the hut was not exactly the cleanest time, or before when we were in the Maze and then in the Scorch. This was the only thing that I would ever thank Janson for.

Peaking into the bathroom again with new clothing in hand, I couldn't resist a breath of relief. At least there was a shower curtain. The tricky part was taking my shirt off when the material was holding on tight to my waist, but I managed. Learning how the shower worked took me a while; after that, I finally let myself relax under the stream of water. It felt so good to wash all the dirt and filth off and just feel clean for once. I had forgotten how feeling this way felt.

Stepping out, the weird material around my waist was a problem again. The pants would fit just fine, but the shirt was a whole other story. I had to find a way to tuck the shirt under the weird flexible material just to feel less itchy there. It was worth the trouble, though. Everything felt so refreshing, I couldn't tell you how weird it was to touch everything when you're clean.

But then the boredom returned. Finding something to do in that room was almost impossible. Thinking like Minho, I exercised for a while. Rather, I tried. I couldn't even run around the room without stopping for a break. Things happened to my body when I wasn't being chased by WCKD. So I was just existing for a few hours, waiting for something to happen. Maybe an explosion, maybe my friends coming to see me, just anything.

And then the locked door slid open. Who else could be behind that door but Janon himself. I cursed myself for thinking that I just wanted "anything" to happen. Curling into myself, I resigned to watching Janson's movements, hoping that Janson wouldn't do anything bad to me this time. Janson didn't say anything, though, merely sitting down on the bed beside me and staring at me with that same look in his eye that I just don't know how to explain. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I tried to get up, but Janson just pulled me back down on the bed and didn't let go. "Stay," he ordered.

I almost snapped back at him, but then I thought about my friends and bit my lip, trying _so_ hard not to snap at Janson as he traced something on my arm. "Tommy, do you hate me?" I snorted before I could catch myself and those nasty butterflies started to flap about again, but Janson didn't seem to care about that. "I see," he said distractedly, letting his eyes wander the room. Suddenly, his hand yanked on my arm, and I yelped as I was pulled onto Janson's lap. "What are you doing?!" I pulled my arm out of Janson's grasp, but he just wrapped his arms around me and wouldn't let go. "Let me go!"

"Do anything I don't like, anything at all, and I'll personally cut off one of your friend's arms," Janson hissed. All of my muscles froze. _Cut off their arm?_ Knowing that Janson wasn't exactly the most moral person I've ever met, I let my muscles go limp after a minute of tense silence. He snuggled up against my back and I bristled, feeling the urge to run. Nevertheless he had told me not to do anything he didn't like, so I held my tongue and let him embrace me.

Janson made a noise that rubbed my skin the wrong way and held me even closer if that was possible. Nuzzling my neck, he sighed, "You're my precious little lab rat, Tommy?" Take my fear, then quadruple it, and that would be how scared I am right now. Why was Janson acting so weird? I whined, wiggling a bit to test the waters. Janson didn't react, merely snuggling up further.

Breathing slowly, I clenched my fists once more and tried to keep my voice from wavering. " _Please_ let me go." A few moments passed, and I wondered if I said something wrong until Janson unwrapped his arms. I tried to hop off quickly, wanting nothing more to do with him, but fate would not be so kind to me as he tugged on my chain. I fell backwards, right back into his arms, and Janson grinned down at me. "Oh, Tommy. You're always so clumsy," he purred, pulling me back into his hold.

Once I felt like I just couldn't take it any longer, I asked, "Can I see my friends, just for a moment?" Janson stopped breathing, and I hurriedly added, "If that's okay with you, of course."

He sighed, long and deep, before pushing me forward a bit. I heard a click and then the material fell off, landing on the floor with a dull thunk. "Okay, we're going to see your friends, but you're going to need these on you." Janson waved some cuffs in front of my face; although I didn't like the idea of being cuffed, I felt like Janson was not going to be this nice ever again, so I readily agreed. With a click and a blindfold tied around my head, Janson picked me up bridal-style and carried me through the halls of the building. (I totally did not yelp when Janson picked me up. Totally.)

Left. Right. Right again, maybe? Or was it left? He took so many confusing turns, and I couldn't tell where the hell we were by the time Janson stopped. "I'm going to set you down now. Don't run off, or you won't see your friends ever again. Understand?"

"Good that." Janson raised an eyebrow at that, and I ducked my head, heat rushing to my cheeks as I realized how stupid I sounded. I opened my mouth to apologize when I realized that I didn't owe Janson any apology, and the thought of me apologizing to _Janson_ of all people made me want to vomit.

I felt Janson lowering me onto the floor and I planted my feet on the ground so I didn't look like an idiot trying to stand up from the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back. From what I could hear, Janson pulled out his card and slid it through the slot, hiding it in one of the pockets in his jacket. "Do you want to be cuffed, or do you think you can be good without the cuffs?"

"I want them off." After a second or two, I felt the pressure on my wrists fade away, and I rubbed my hands over my sore wrists as Janson led me through the door and carefully set me down in a seat before removing the blindfold. I watched Janson move to the other side of the room where there was a door with a slot for a card. Janson slid a blue card through the slot and poked his head into the room.

"Yeah, I know. Surprising to see me here. I wasn't exactly planning on coming over today, but I decided that you guys will get the chance to talk to Thomas. Who wants to see him first?" _He calls me Tommy when we're by ourselves, but calls me Thomas in front of my friends._ I raised a mental eyebrow and huffed. That was something I didn't expect.

Janson moved out of the way for someone, and once Janson stepped aside I could see it was Minho. Minho was cuffed and Janson placed him in his seat more roughly than he did for me. Now that I observed Janson a little more closely, I could see hate in Janson's entire posture. I paid no attention to it, though, as I smiled at Minho, whom smiled back.

"Minho, you doing alright?" Minho nodded, and I relaxed, the tension I didn't even know was there leaving my muscles. "How has WCKD been treating you?" A shrug, and I let that one slide for now.

"How have you been faring, Thomas?" Knowing that Minho would understand, I shrugged.

"I _guess_ I've been doing all right. I feel much better than I did before. Guess Teresa wasn't _that_ bad after all." I took the nod and smile Minho gave me as a great sign.

Loosening up, Minho sighed in relief, eyeing Janson a bit as he said, "Had anyone else to talk to other than Janson?" I shook my head.

"How are the others doing?" Minho made a fist and lifted his thumb, which -if I recall it correctly- was a thumbs up. It meant "good" or "great." My face spread out into a broad grin, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Janson's hand in a fist.

Turning my head, I asked Janson, "Hey, can I see everyone else?" Janson hesitated before moving to the door and I stood up, causing Janson to look at me with a confused expression. "Oh, I want to see everyone in that room, because this room is probably too small for everyone."

Janson muttered something under his breath, but he moved aside to let me enter the room. What I saw was rather...illuminating. It looked exactly like the room me, Minho, Frypan, Winst—No, don't think about that. It never happened.

Anyways, it looked exactly like _that_ room, except it was _just_ big enough for all of my friends to live here somewhat comfortably, with this weird red spot on the floor. But now that I could see everyone's feet, I could see that they were all cuffed by the feet and was forced to shuffle in order to walk, making it a bit harder to plan an escape. Not to mention Janson hanging out whenever I talked to them and there being no clock in this room also not helping. Along with the fact that I had to somehow get rid of the thing that Janson attaches to my waist _and_ snatch that blue card _and_ get rid of this shitty collar.

Basically, getting out would be like trying to escape Janson with no legs in a long hallway with no obstacles to slow Janson down, which basically means it's close to impossible. Even if Janson cut my legs off, I would still fight for just a slimmer of a chance to escape. _I should be smart about how we go about this. We only have one shot, and after that it's either we escape,_ _or we get caught and_ never _escape_.

I didn't have to break out _all_ of my friends because some of my friends weren't there. Vince wasn't in the room, and neither was Aris. Or Teresa. Jorge was also missing. So that left Harriet, Minho, Brenda, Frypan, Sonya, Gally, and all of the immunes that didn't get out of WCKD's clutches. Probably not _that_ doable, but it could be done. With a lot of luck. "I'm alive, and not injured. In any way, shape, or form."

Sonya and Harriet ran up to hug me, almost sweeping me off my feet. Frypan patted me on te back, and Gally gave me his usual greeting. "Hey, Greenie." Brenda stood over to the right of Gally, waving at me but not moving forward.

"How's that klunk been treating you?" Gally asked. Lightly laughing, I glanced over at Janson briefly to see if he realized we were talking klunk about him before mentally shrugging. _Who cares at this point?_

"He's jacked, but that's nothing new. Just a little more jacked than usual." Chills ran down my spine as I recalled what Janson did in the hallucination. Maybe the memories hidden from the memory wipe influenced that. A whole heck of a lot.

"You jacked or jacked jacked?" A slight grimace flickered over my face before I allowed that small insult to slide on by.

"Jacked jacked." As of now Brenda and Sonya were covering their mouths, trying not to look at Janson, Gally was snickering at how confused Janson was right now, Harriet was sneaking glances over at Janson (it only served to puzzle Janson even further), and Minho...he just really liked insulting Janson. (The reason why they thought it was funny was because they were insulting Janson right in front of him without Janson even knowing what they were talking about. Oh, that was Glader slang, so Klunk means poop or crap and jacked describes someone as crazy or mental.)

Minho snorted at that. "So, what do you mean 'just a little more jacked than usual?'" By now everone has calmed down a bit, Janson was leaning against the doorway seeming uninterested, but we could all tell Janson was listening in.

"I mean, the klunk was acting very gentle and they were just... _disturbing_. They look at me freakily, and I don't enjoy that." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Janson silently fuming. You couldn't really identify how he was feeling most of the time unless you looked him in the eye, but you didn't even need to see his face in order to tell he was furious.

"You have two minutes left, so whatever you want to say, say it now." He kept looking at the little clock he has on his wrist, _a watch_.

Gally stepped forward, and I could feel Janson's eyes boring into me. I ignored it and stuck out my hand, Gally taking it. We shook hands and I grinned, Gally mimicking my expression. "Nice seeing you, Greenie. Hope to see you again soon."

"Good that." Now everyone was smiling, hugging me and saying goodbye. Minho was the last one to say goodbye to me, and then I was reminded of what I wanted to ask before.

"Minho?" He gave a slight hum. "Where's Teresa?" He looked away for a bit before sighing and looking back.

"She's in the Deadheads, Thomas." _She's dead_. The air stopped in my throat, and I was barely able to respond when Minho hugged me and said goodbye and sorry, hardly even feeling Janson pulling me out of the room, the door slamming behind me.

I didn't care as Janson held me in his arms, carrying me back to the room I was staying in, for all I could think about was Teresa. She only cared about my health, that was the _only_ reason she brought me back to WCKD, and she's dead because she cared. _The red spot on the floor was her_ blood _._ I choked slightly on my own breath, realizing that she got to be with the others in her final moments before being killed right in front of them. _Murdered_. _She died right in front of them, but_ you _weren't there to see it._ I could imagine Janson aiming a pistol at Teresa, her eyes widening before he pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the room as the bullet tore through the flesh and her skull, killing her a long time before her corpse collapsed on the floor like a broken doll. _How could you not be there when she was_ murdered _?_

"Tommy!" My eyelids fluttered a bit, my vision blurred from the tears that were streaming down my cheeks. I could feel Janson wiping them away with his thumb, and the softness of the bed underneath me felt like a stab through my heart. Just from the sight of their beds I could tell that I had a much softer bed, and it felt like I was betraying them in some way by being on this bed. "Tommy, why were you crying?" Recollecting my thoughts, I tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by Janson. "Why were you crying?" _Teresa_.

"Why'd you kill her?" Janson tilted his head in bewilderment. I glowered, tensing when Janson was fiddling with a large piece of metal.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I'm talking about." I _hated_ how my voice wavered and cracked, but my glower never faltered. "Teresa. Why'd you kill her?"

"I think you know why, Tommy." He didn't appear to be paying much attention to me, merely attaching the chain to a piece of metal that looks similar to the material that was wrapped around my waist previously. Then he closed it around my waist, only letting go once he heard a faint click. "She betrayed me, and she would do it again once she saw you were better. I had to, to keep you here."

"I don't want to be here." Tears all dried up, I blinked and swallowed, my voice fluctuating. "I want to be anywhere that doesn't have _you_ , or WCKD. I want to be outside for once in my lifetime." His eyes had a dangerous gleam, but I kept going, not wanting to stop. "I want to be outside with all of my friends, not chained up like some _animal_. Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't I ever be free of you?!"

With not even a moment of hesitation Janson lunged at me, raising his hand high above his head. "Piece of shit! I keep your friends alive and this is how you fucking say thanks?!" I put up my hands, bracing for the blow. But then he hesitates, his hand frozen in the air. Something flickered across his face for just a moment, so fast I couldn't tell what it was, and then he had an idea. "Well, I could hurt you," he hummed, "but I would have to be very careful with you." His raised hand lowered to lightly touch my cheek. "I don't want to hurt my precious lab rat, after all." Then he pulled away, standing up and grabbing the long chain. "No, I want to be able to release my anger without the fear of injuring you badly."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but knowing him, it was not good in any sense of the word. Dragging me across the room by the chain, he oulled out his cuffs again. Wiggling around, I try to tug the chain out of his hands, but I was still recovering and thus only had the strength of a small child. With just a bit more effort on his part, Janson cuffed the chain to the bedpost and limited my movement to a radius of just a foot or two.

"Now," Janson says, turning to me with the key to the cuffs resting in his palm. "Because of your childish actions today, I'm going to have to punish you. You're not going to see your friends until you apologize, and depending on my mood, then I'll decide when you can see your friends. However, since you were so disrespectful, I need to punish _someone_. And who better than one of your friends," he taunted, walking away with barely a look back.

"Wait!" I cried out, not exactly thinking that Janson would actually stopped. Janson paused, and suddenly I had to come up with something on the spot. "I-If I apologize, will you at least go easy on them?" Well, that was not what I had expected to come up with, but it was the best I could think up on the spot like that.

Janson twirled around, bringing his hands together to form a clap. "What a wonderful idea, Tommy! I will punish them no matter what, but if you apologize to me right now, I'll only give them a few lashes. But only if you apologize. Waste my time, and I won't show any mercy to them or to you," he threatened, and I gulped.

"Janson..." Knowing that not apologizing could end up with someone dead, I swallowed down my pride, looked Janson in the eye, and said very slowly, "I apologize for insulting you." But that felt too short, so I added, "And for acting ungrateful for your mercy towards me and my friends. You could've killed them and you could've just put me in a cell with nothing, but you didn't. Thank you for that." Sucking up like that was another stab to my pride, but Janson was acting at least somewhat meeciful to my friends. By keeping them alive and such. He could've killed them by now or started to torture them without any reason to, but he hadn't so far. I should be thankful for that at least.

I didn't even realize that Janson had fallen silent until he strode over to where I had been sitting on the floor. He stood just out of my reach and waited for my eyes to meet his. Once he knew he had my attention, he smiled sincerely and said, "You know, I wasn't expecting you to say that. I was expecting a much more immature response. But since you apologized and thanked me, I think I'll leave your friends alone. Don't expect me to forgive you like this every time, though." With that, he finally left the room, leaving me with my chain cuffed to the bedpost and bewildered as to what just happened.

 **Well, that ended weirdly. This chapter was really long, so I'm not going to add a poem here. Just saying, I didn't mean for this chapter to end that way, it just came out. Sorry for the weird plotline, but that's the way it is. Go ahead and check out my other stories, such as The Cure or The Safe Haven, or Peter and The Itsy Bitsy Spider. I feel like they are more constructed and better than this story, which is not saying much, but they are better stories. Also, I wanted to update my story all at once so it would make sense to you when you read it the whole way through. Most of the plot will still be the same, but the minor plot details will change and it actually might affect the plot moving forward. I don't exactly know, I'm just writing on the fly and trying to make it all make sense for future chapters. Also, Thomas will be having this anemia problem for the rest of the story. Yet another problem that he will have to face while running away from WCKD.**

 **Sorry for not uploading sooner. I'm just working on _another_ story. Seriously, I keep getting these weird story ideas. I should stop... Nah!**

 **Hope you all had a fantastic winter break if you had one. I did, and it has just ended, and I am sad. Bye!**


	8. Removal of - I Cannot Remember

**My stories are shit. I know this for a fact. But I want to write this anyways. So I'm just going to be embarrassed by this once I hit the tender age of sixty or something. Or I might be dead before then, who knows?**

 **Here we go...**

Blissful peace. A still lake, without a single ripple or disturbance, and I could feel a soft breeze brush through my hair, gentle as a feather's touch. A smile played out on my lips, and for a moment I forgot everything that had happened to me, just relaxing and breathing in and out. Focusing on the sound of air leaving me and joining the rest, before I took in another breath.

I felt the urge to open my eyes, yet the compulsion just puzzled me. For my eyes were wide open, taking in all there was to see here. The grass, when I stood up, could reach the middle of my calves easily, and the grass was a lush green, delicate to my touch. Calm sifted through the fields, riding on the gentle wind that hadn't stopped ruffling my hair.

But that feeling never went away, the feeling that I'm not actually _seeing_ anything. A notion that was absurd, for the lake is right there, and the grass vibrant and pleasant to feel. Crazy to even _think_ about.

As I focused on the sensation that was spreading through my body, the whole world around me seemed to fade away. I couldn't even feel the dew on the grass, or see the lake anymore. Now that they were gone, however, I could see, with my eyes widened and my mouth gaping from shock, the walls from the Maze. Darkness surged over the wall, washing over everything in its path, and rapidly headed to where I was sitting. When I tried to get up, terror struck me like lightning when my feet wouldn't move, my hands not listening to what I want.

Soon enough the darkness reached me, holding me in its greedy claws. The wind was replaced with something more _solid_ , and voices from far away could be heard from somewhere around me. But I couldn't see anything, couldn't _do_ anything. The soil that had been underneath me had transformed into something much more soft and familiar, that feeling always accompanying the nightmares of the Sand twins. Cushions were underneath me, and the touch of WCKD restraints was wrapped around me wrists and my stomach, keeping me in its embrace.

My panicked breaths partially drowned out the voices coming closer, and whatever had been ruffling had now left my hair when the voices became clear, and the squeaks of a chair or a stool echoed through the room. The doors slid open quieter than a mouse, letting light flood into the room where it could bypass the silhouettes standing in the doorway. Their shadows had been stretched, reaching the back wall behind me, only to disappear with a click.

The first person to enter was the black female that was with Teresa, except there were a few stray strands of grey hair poking out of her tight bun, and some more wrinkles had been carved into her skin. Now that I wasn't thoroughly panicked and confused, I remembered her. She was the lady that our group had forced to come along and open the door so we could rescue Teresa and get out. Relief washed over my emotional dam, glad that she didn't get fired or killed because of what I had done to her. That thought was forever pushed to the back of my mind, for I couldn't be feeling sympathy for my enemies.

The second person was a pudgy man that sort of resembled Chuck, with his curly hair and somewhat obese body. But that was where the resemblance stopped. Where Chuck's eyes was always alight with kindness, his eyes were cold and empty and reminded me of a pig, and he had a much rounded figure whereas Chuck was just a pudgy young twelve year old. This man was constantly grumbling, eyeing whoever was behind him and muttering something under his breath, face forever stuck in a frown.

Next two I had already met. The Sand twins were entering, and the female was now dressed in a fancy blue dress with pearls dangling from around her neck, and it was so long that at times it would get stuck in her—*cough* cleavage *cough*—and then she would pull it out with a roll of her eyes. Her brother(?) was dressed in an ironed traditional suit once more, but this time he was wearing a bracelet of gold, glimmering whenever his sleeve rolled up slightly. Not to mention the leer that he gave me whenever our eyes met.

The last person for me to notice was the hand in my hair, abruptly stopping when the voices had come closer and standing up from where they had been sitting. Janson. Wearing his regular black jacket and blue shirt with jeans, making me think that it's the only outfit he has, always donning that smirk that has rubbed me the wrong way every time he has it plasered on his face. Janson hadn't changed at all this past year and a half or so, unlike almost everyone else I've met so far. Even my friends had one slight change, like a length in hair or grew a bit taller, but Janson has remained the same.

"Glad to see you are awake, Thomas." My hands twitched when he said my name, itching to wrap themselves around his throat and squeeze. But the pudgy man stood in my view, the black lady helping him block out Janson as they observed me, studying my every move for what seemed like an eternity. But my instincts, which I trusted, told me only a few seconds passed before the pudgy man began to speak.

"So this is the one you want us to work on?" He spanned any vision I had of the rest of the room, his stomach wobbling as he moved his arms wildly while he spoke. "He seems a bit too young for this, but we don't get paid to sit on our butts all day." One of his hands freed me from the restraints and wrapped around my wrists, tugging hard enough to rip my arm out of its socket and forcing me off the bed and to stumble forward, almost falling on my face. "Well, move!"

The black lady clutched a clipboard to her chest, retreating into herself and not even speaking. Her eyes were lifeless, staring into nothingness until the pudgy man commanded her to follow, which she did. Not a single emotion popped out, not a single hair out of place, and her motions were all precise and calculated, and she didn't even flinch when the pudgy man pushed her out of the way with enough force to make her fall onto the floor. She merely got back up and brushed off her lab coat as she followed the pudgy man like a dog followed their owner. This version of her clashed with what I knew of her, the lady that was brave and bright and _alive_.

The moment the pudgy man moved to push me again Janson grasped his arm and twisted it, earning a sharp cry from the man. Janson's shark grin played out on his lips. "Do that again, and I'll be _sure_ to take you off of _both_ list." Nothing about what Janson said made sense, but the pudgy man understood rather well what Janson meant by that with the look on his face and made sure to treat me gently after Janson had let go. The Sand twins merely watched from the background, name tags pinned onto their lab coats, but I didn't care enough about their names right now to actually read what was on it.

However, I read the name tag on the black lady, and it read Amanda. Nothing else, just Amanda. I've heard other people having more than one name, but Amanda, a _doctor_ , didn't have one. Once I actually _looked_ at her I could see that she was carrying three large bags, and the tools inside looked rather heavy. But she bore the weight with an empty look as the group moved through the hallways, as if she couldn't feel any pain.

"Amanda!" the pudgy man had called out when she stopped to look through a window in one of the hallways, the cries of a crank managing to breach the glass. Her eyes held a gleam of concern in them as she stared through the window, but then her face relaxed into the empty, lifeless look I associate with her and stepped back into line, bearing the slap that the pudgy man gave her. "Listen to me you moron! Follow me and _don't_ get sidetracked!" the man half-yelled at her, drawing a brief amount of attention from doctors in nearby rooms before the doctors looked back at what they were doing, not really caring about how the man hit Amanda.

Amanda nodded briskly. The overweight man muttered underneath his breath, lightly pushing me forward to remind me to move ahead, sneaking a careful glance at Janson when he did so. Janson followed without a word spoken and merely his signature grin, which wasn't something I was quite accustomed to, and the Sand twins silently stalked the corridors behind us. The pudgy man held onto my arm and dragged me into a room with Amanda pivoting as if she had done this a thousand times and quietly watched the soldiers that had been standing in the room force me into one of the hospital bed things that WCKD has nowadays.

The female Sand twin, whose name is Samantha judging by her name tag, walks about quietly yet haughtily, as if she was above everyone else in the room (except she always became quieter whenever Janson entered the room). The male Sand twin, Sandy, acted almost the same, except he always glared at Janson, as if angered by his very existence. Though that glare faded rather quickly whenever Janson focused on him, which wasn't that often. Right away I could tell that their egos would kill them rather soon, though I hoped they would kill Janson before they died.

Cuffed to the bed with the same restraints as every other bed I've ever been on that I've been restrained to, I couldn't exactly do anything, so I settled in and listened to what the pudgy man was saying. "Amanda, fetch me the sedative." Worry lodged itself into my gut, and my breathing abruptly halted when Amanda pulled out the syringe from her bag filled with sedatives and handed it to the pudgy man. He turned away from Amanda without even thanking her, facing me with the syringe as Amanda dabbed my arm with the ever-familiar cotton ball with rubbing alcohol. "Now, I need someone ready in case he decides to kick."

All but two soldiers headed back to their previous positions before they were ordered to guard the room from potential threats, and the two soldiers stood by my legs, ready to hold them down should I freak out. But when one of the soldiers was heading out he bumped into the pudgy man, causing the fat slug to drop the syringe, the sedative spilling out all over the floor. "You imbecile!" The pudgy man's face had red splotches all over, and he looked ready to murder someone as he turned to face the soldier that had done it. But the soldier had already blended in with the other soldiers leaving, and the fat klunk couldn't figure out who bumped into him. "Now how the fuck am I supposed to proceed?"

"Proceed with what, exactly?" Samantha's egotistical voice split the dead in the air, and the obese man rounded on her.

"Aren't you supposed to be a prodigy?!" Getting all up in her face, the fat man yelled at Samantha, who didn't take what he said all that kindly. "Shouldn't you know what I'm fucking trying to do?!"

She grimaced, disgusted by how close the man was to her. "Of course, you're giving this poor man amnesia, though why I can't possibly guess. But I can't trust _you_ to prod through Thomas' brain, you can't even take a _bath_ properly." Samantha openly gagged at what I assume is the smell of the fat man, and I could see the man's hand balling up into a fist. "Not to mention that you are _still_ somehow obese despite the advanced society we live in."

I could imagine the steam from cartoons in my childhood coming out of the man's ears at how enraged he was. "Get out of this room." The pudgy man's voice was dangerously low, but Samantha paid no attention to him and was checking her nails, which had been painted blue to match her dress.

"I'm sorry, who are _you_ to tell me what to do?" Samantha glowered at the man, whom was cowering at her intimidating glare. Samantha rose to her full height, a good foot and a half taller than the man, and if I was that man I would have been afraid for my life. "You might want to get to work," Samantha snarled, "Or else..." And here she whispered in the man's ear, causing his eyes to widen to the point where he looked like his eyes would pop right out.

Then she straightened up and headed to the door, Sandy right behind her as the door slid shut behind them. The man himself dusted off his shirt, his hands shaking with fear, and his face filled with dread. "Amanda," he commanded, and Amanda took a step forward. His voice shook as he said, "Go get some more sedatives."

Amanda needed nothing more before she strode to the door, leaving only the man, me, the two soldiers, and Janson. "Fuck, I forgot to tell her how much sedative she should bring." The man toddled out of the room, yelling "Amanda!" as he attempted to run. It resembled a toddler walking for the first time, however, and I let out a light laugh at how silly the man looked.

Shoes scuffling against the floor reminded me that I wasn't alone, and that Janson was the only one in the room with me since the soldiers just left the room, the door closing gently behind them. There was no room for Janson to sit down on the bed like how he usually does when he's in the room I basically live in right now, so Janson just pulled a chair out from the corner, the legs squeaking as it slid across the floor before it finally stopped. Janson sat down in the chair and brushed some of my hair out of my face, giving a slight chuckle when I growled. "Why don't you laugh more? Your laugh is so beautiful," Janson whispered, pulling his hand away before my teeth could reach his fingers and bite down.

" _Tommy_ ," Janson said, his voice threatengly low. His hand reached back into my hair, but this time he yanked my hair, forcing a yelp of pain out of my throat, and I twisted my head left and right to get out of his hold. He leaned forward, his face rather close to mine, and I froze, breathing heavily with my heart leaping out of my chest and into my throat. Once I had stopped, Janson let go of my hair, but I didn't even breath out a sigh of relief, for Janson was still too close for comfort, his breaths tickling my skin.

"You're so beautiful, you know?" Nothing could terrify me more than those words, for he said that in almost every hallucination I've ever had of him. Eyes glazed over, Janson leaned that tiny bit closer and our lips touched, and I could smell something rather familiar— _cologne_ , my brain is saying. Air caught in my throat, frozen like the rest of my body as my brain tried to process what Janson is doing. A hand clasped the back of my head and lifted it up, so the kiss deepened, and he could keep my head from moving away.

That hand caught me out of the shock and I began yanking my hands, fighting against the restraints and my feet kicking in any direction it could. Tears streamed down my temples and onto the bed and my hair when I realized that Janson has taken almost everything from me. My freedom, my friends, any hope of ever seeing the outdoors without any fear of WCKD, lives of people I had ever cared about, any chance of escape, and my first kiss. Sobs escaped once Janson pulled away, and I breathed in huge gulps of air only to break down and sob once more, my tears sliding down my face faster than Janson could wipe away.

Apparently concerned about me crying, Janson wrapped his arms around my torso as much as he could with how I was restrained and whispered what he might have thought to be soothing words in my ear, fingers drifting through locks of my hair, but the words reminded me of every hallucination of Janson that I had and only made me feel worse, crying until I could breathe again. Then I recalled Chuck, whom was like the brother I never had, dying to a bullet that was meant for me, lying on the cold floor with no one there to bury him properly, and I began to wail, mourning Chuck's death. Soon I was mourning over Teresa, Winston, Mary, Ava, Alby, Newt, and the Gladers that had fallen to the Grievers. They all had died because I wasn't fast enough to help them, wasn't smart enough, wasn't _good_ enough to keep them from dying. I cried and sobbed until I had no tears left to cry with, calming down and hiccuping every now and then before my breaths were evenly spaced out.

The arms lowered me back onto the bed, and footsteps went into one ear and out the other. Everything felt so bleak and dark, and I didn't want to live like this anymore. Soft, wet tissues wiped away the leftover tears, and Janson asked, "Are you done crying, Tommy?" I nodded, feeling so empty without my friends. It seemed like Janson wanted to talk more, but footsteps from outside kept Janson from sitting back down or talking anymore.

The rather obese man yelled from the hallway, "Why the fuck are you standing out here?! Get back inside!" A tick appeared on Janson's face, his hands tightening into fists, and I watched with some sort of fearful fascination at how dangerous Janson's face appeared with just the slightest frown on his face. As the door slid open the man walked inside, only to turn around when he realized that only Amanda had followed him into the room. "Why the fuck are you still out there?!"

Blink and you would have missed the way Janson clamped his hands around the man's throat with a clear intention of killing him. The sudden movement got me to gasp, but no one paid any attention to that. "That's strike three, Mr. Miller." Mr. Miller's face had a shade of blue with the lack of oxygen, pulling at Janson's hands and his feet treading air as Janson lifted him up with a morbid sense of glee, and my face paled when Mr. Miller stopped moving, his eyes glazing over in that way only corpses had. "Only _I_ tell my soldiers what to do," he whispered, and then he dropped the corpse onto the floor, leaving it there like disgusting trash.

After just a flick of Janson's wrist the two soldiers that had been standing outside now came in and dragged the body away, like this was an everyday occurence. Amanda folded her hands behind her back, and I could swear that her eyes held satisfaction in their shine before they became dull and lifeless once more. "Dr. Crawford?" Amanda hesitated, as if unsure whether or not she should respond, before she straightened herself, rigid as a wooden board. "Can you do the procedure by yourself?"

Nod. "Then please remove only the memories that fall under these categories. Oh, and don't forget to replace them with these, okay?" Janson reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to Amanda—or should I call her Dr. Crawford?—whom took it with a nod and smile that appeared rather forced. Unfolded, the paper looked like a regular piece of printer paper that you could find anywhere in this building, but I knew what was on there; a list of catagories so Amanda knew which memories to erase. Calmed, light breaths turned into ragged, terrified breathing as I started to understand why I was here, and Janson noticed.

Amanda hurriedly placed the paper onto the nearest flat surface, which was the chair Janson had been sitting on earlier, and tried to swab my arm, but couldn't since I had caught on and flailed, my elbows almost digging into Amanda's gut multiple times before Janson stilled them, grunting as he tried to keep my arm as still as possible. Briefly swabbing the portion before throwing the swab in a random direction, Amanda almost stabbed the needle into my veins, releasing the sedative into my bloodstream despite my best efforts. Janson quickly backed off, lest he get kneed in the side by my legs, which have slowed as the sedative took effect.

"Please," I spat out, my voice hoarse from the wails earlier. "Don't take my memories away. I don't want to forget!"

Amanda looked away, a pained expression cracking through her facade. An expression that almost bordered on sympathetic could be read from Janson's face, and he ruffled my already messy hair into a bird's nest, with an almost affectionate feel to it. "I don't want to hurt you, Tommy, but you need this. So you don't hurt inside anymore, Tommy." Janson gave a brief kiss onto my forehead, and it felt like acid when his lips touched my skin.

Heavy eyelids began to close, and even with my best efforts, I couldn't stop them from closing, couldn't stop my breaths from deepening. _I can't stop anything, can't do anything to stop others. I'm not good enough to keep these memories if I can't even keep my memories from being erased._

And some small part of me, some itty bitty part of my soul, whispered, "You never deserved any memories. You don't even deserve to _live_ if you can't do anything to change the world."

Even though I want to be something, that I _know_ that my friends wouldn't be better off if I never existed, I quietly agreed with this small part. And I could almost see that part grin in victory.

 **So, this is my next chapter. Hope you all feel good. And did you see the snow outside?! It only snowed a few times in November, and not December, but then all of a sudden there is all this snow! It's absolutely amazing.**

 **Anyways, see you all in the next chapter/story!**

 **Poem:**

 **Though my eyes are open**

 **I can't see a thing**

 **My dream is a string**

 **Made to be interwoven**

 **Sunshine brightens the air**

 **And I can breathe it in**

 **My eyes say they win**

 **But I cannot declare**

 **That I am a normal**

 **Human with a dream**

 **I know that my seam**

 **Is actually abnormal**

 **Even though I can see**

 **Sunshine, grass, and string**

 **I can't see a thing**

 **Because of dibris**

 **I have eyes no more**

 **Where have they gone?**

 **My eyes are laying on**

 **The dibris-covered floor**


	9. Weird Stuff Happens

**Hi everyone! One of my friends is posting this story on ArchiveOfOurOwn, and I want you to know so that if you like reading on that website, now this story is on that website! Yay! Though, I doubt that any of you would be excited about this, I [sort of] am!**

 **Well, time to start writing again!**

Nothing was stable, or solid, or stuck in one place. Everything was constantly in motion, shifting into something else and ending up in places it shouldn't have ever been. Even my own body contorted into various positions that I usually couldn't do, and my nerves were set on fire with each new position before I got used to the notion of pain. Bound to a single spot, I was forced to take on the cold that came with the liquid I was in, shivering violently and wishing for warmth.

The bonds keeping me in place dispersed, letting me float up to what I hope is the surface. I kept gaining speed, and all of the scenes that I could recognize sped right past me, moving in a blur, and I could see the surface of whatever I was floating in. I emerged and opened my eyes, blinking heavily from the bright light. Machines whirred in the background, and I could see blurred shapes through my vision, but I couldn't make out anything solid.

"He woke up! Quick, get more sedatives!" Shining objects caught my eye, and I observed the pointed objects slowly getting more and more focused. It was a few syringes, along with some sort of metal objects that I couldn't quite identify, but I could see another object that resembled one of the knives that we stole from WCKD. Some of the objects had something red smeared onto them, drying and solidifying on the metal.

Frightened by the new environment, my heart leapt into my throat when my arm was sharply yanked to one side, and sharp pain was the next focus. If I could even move my head.

Pulled back into the liquid, forces of some kind forced me to stay just under the surface, keeping freedom just out of reach. The cold came back once more, and I screamed into nothingness. I fought against the forces, the bonds, the burdens, and reached for the surface, for warmth, for any kind of relief.

Then I was pulled out of that realm, violently shoved into reality with a gasp. A blanket covered me from my shoulders to my toes, fuzzy and warm. Warmth from beneath me penetrated my thin clothes, and I snuggled underneath the blankets, trying to get more warmth from the source of heat, shivering as the cold of the room tried to sneak in from the edges of the blanket. Arms were wrapped around my waist, tightening just the tiniest bit when I snuggled, and whoever was underneath me let out a short laugh as I sighed, comfy and safe at last.

The haze of sleep lulled me back to the realm of sleep, and I closed my eyes to the sound of someone humming a small tune, hot breath brushing over my neck. My limbs were being moved around to a more comfortable position, the arms securing me once I stopped moving, ensuring that I wouldn't fall off. Soft breaths passed my lips as I dreamed of nothing that day.

 **{Time skip! O~O}**

I woke up again, this time from a small kiss to the forehead and the lack of warmth. Janson was leaning over me, smiling down with affection. "Good morning, Tommy." I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head.

"Just five more minutes," I grumble, feeling sick and dizzy.

There was a moment of silence before Janson shifted on the bed. "Alright, I'll let you sleep for a little longer." Then the warmth returned along with the feeling of safety, and I curled into a little ball and dived back into the dream I wanted to return to.

 **{Another time skip. I just love these bad boys. Also, I decided to change up the story a bit.**

 **And remember, Janson meddled with Thomas's mind. This time, I decided that Janson wanted to erase Thomas of all his memories of Janson's bad side and inserted memories of him being close to Janson instead of the opposite. So Thomas actually likes Janson now. Don't worry, someone doesn't like this, and it'll be fixed so Thomas hates Janson again.}**

When I woke up for the third time, it wasn't because of a deeply ingrained fear telling me something dangerous lurked outside of my comfy dream world. It wasn't because Janson kissed my forehead, nor from any nightmares. No, it was from a sound that I could vaguely recall, even though I couldn't remember where I heard these beautiful notes. It was the sound of melodies, of _birds_.

Flaps and chirps entranced me as the small bodies fluttered about, diving and cheeping as though nothing bad had gone wrong. Some of the small creatures hopped about on the ground, pecking at the dirt and chewing— _worms_ , animals that made my skin crawl with that feeling you get when something's just _wrong_. Grass brushed up to my calves, and flashbacks to one of my recent dreams got me wondering. I twist my neck, looking to my left, just like I did in my dream at one point, and there it was, the still lake, sparkling underneath the light. Tilting my head to see above, I saw a yellow ball, the sun, trying to shine through the leaves and branches of a large tree.

A weird chirp brought my gaze down to the grass. There, nestled between two long blades of grass and camouflaging rather well, was a small critter—a cricket. It chirped once more before scurrying away, disappearing from view. A breeze swept across the field, and I couldn't even believe what my eyes were telling me. It was like sitting in an actual forest full of life, except without animals larger than the swooping birds.

But the sun didn't provide any warmth like how it should've, and the breeze sent a chill shivering through my body. My arms instinctively wrapped themselves around me, trying to keep my warmth from leaving, and my teeth clacked against each other lightly as I shivered. I wished Janson was here. He always knew how to comfort me.

I lowered myself onto the blades of grass, my pants soaking up the dew and giving me goosebumps. Rubbing my arms and shivering didn't do any good, but I just wanted to be warm. The sun had moved a little bit, enough for me to know that the lake is north of where I was sitting, the soft breeze gently stealing away my heat.

Grass crunched underneath someone's foot from behind, and my senses sprang to life, causing me to jolt and tense, facing the intruder; once I saw it was Janson walking towards me with something in his hand, I relaxed significantly. However, my body stiffened when I finally recognized what was in his hand. A sleek pistol was pointed to the ground, and Janson acted stressed, like something was happening.

Why was Janson so stressed out? I wanted to reach out and say something, anything, to calm him down. To tell him that we were safe.

Janson relaxed and let a tired sigh slip out when he saw me, holstering the gun as he took a few more steps closer. Though I wished nothing more than to hug Janson and soothe my nerves (Janson used to hug me as a child, telling me such wonderful stories about his own childhood), something inside told me to stay put. But I didn't listen to that irrational part of me, walking over to Janson.

"Thomas, I'm going to need you to stay here for now, okay?" Janson sweetly said, smiling in a reassuring way; however, I knew something was up. He always called me Tommy. It was his little nickname that he came up with. If he didn't call me Tommy, then he was really stressed out.

"Where are you going? You just got here." My hands reached out for his to tightly grasp, and Janson looked down at them in shock. Something must really be off with Janson. He shouldn't be surprised that I'm holding his hands. "Why can't you stay for a while? What's wrong?"

Janson gripped my hands tighter, acting as if I was some sort of dream he thought would disapper if he let go. Leaning in, Janson softly kissed me. We separated after a brief period of time, but the kiss still made my skin tingle. His index finger drew circles on the back of my hand, the way he always does when he's thinking.

Then he hesitantly took a few steps back, putting some distance between us. I didn't understand. What did I do wrong? "I'm sorry, Thomas, but I really do have to go. Just stay here, and if anyone else comes, hide. Okay?"

My pulse quickened with fear. Why would I need to hide? Was it those bad people again? Even though I worried about his safety, I nodded. Then Janson pulled out an apple from one of his pockets. "Catch," he said, and threw the red apple.

The apple spun as it flew through the air, landing in my outstretched palm. When I looked up at Janson from the apple, he was already by the tree, vanishing behind the trunk. Curiousity pushed me forward, guiding me around the tree where Janson had gone to see...nothing. No secret door, no entrance, nothing to even say that Janson had even left in the first place. My hands couldn't feel anything metallic, a crack, anything to indicate a secret entrance.

 _Where did Janson go?_ Huffing in annoyance, I took a step away from the tree and felt the urge to look up. When I did, I could see a silvery-white lizard staring down at me, its eyes glowing red. I frowned, and then I slowly made my way over to the lake, keeping the lizard in the corner of my eye as I began to leave. The lizard turned its head to stare at me, even moving when it couldn't see me anymore.

A flash of black flew at my face, and it smacked me right in the nose. I stumbled backwards, yelping as I clutched my face, a bird cheeping in similar agony. The bird was flapping wildly, trying to orient itself, and I could see the red lights in the grass, glowing devilishly. Ignoring the bright red lights, I bent down to see the bird more clearly, tilting my head to one side, curious as to what allowed this creature to fly. Carefully, I scooped it off of the ground and held it in my hands, watching its small chest rise and fall. I gently stroked its head, calming it down and keeping my hands open in case it wanted to fly away.

After a few minutes, the bird began to move about, flicking its head about as it observed its surroundings. Then, it flapped its wings and fluttered into the air, swooping about me before landing on my head, cheeping loudly all the while. I stayed as still as I could, not even daring to breathe in fear that the bird would get spooked and fly away, leaving me alone once more. My lungs burned as I held my breath, and I could feel everything burning as my body screamed at me to take a breath in.

I couldn't take it anymore and gasped like a fish out of water, taking in huge gulps of air until my lungs didn't feel like they had been ser on fire. The bird had fallen off of my head when I lurched forward to breathe, but it had returned, singing its melody with the other birds and staying with me as it did so. I could feel my heart lifting from the despair I had felt earlier, and I forgot everything that had happened so far, every once in a while offering the bird some food and letting it happily munch away on the worms I gave it. By the time my stomach grumbled for food, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky a light yellow and orange.

The bird had flown about a bit, always coming back every now and then with a new bird friend, but when night began to fall it cheeped a few times at me before flying off to the gigantic tree, where Janson had disappeared behind. Once the bird left, I felt cold and empty, and I was left shivering on the ground until I could see the stars. There was no moon, but there were so many stars I would have thought there was a full moon just from how well I could see my surroundings. Wanting to see the exit of this place, I went around the trunk of the gigantic tree where Janson had disappeared to, only to find nothing again. I sat back against the trunk, not realizing how much I needed contact from just about anything. I knew he told me not to leave, but it was rather lonely and cold in this garden.

Having gotten used to the feeling of hunger, I easily ignored my complaining stomach, resting my head against the bark of the tree. It was uncomfortable, but good enough. I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep, listening to the sounds of the water hitting the dirt, and the birds moving around in their nests. Imagining that I was snuggled up beneath the blanket in the nice warmth made it a bit easier to deal with the silence.

I had completely dozed off before I could feel someone moving me around. My eyelids fluttered open to reveal a soldier grinning down at me, freckles dotting their entire face, before they pulled me away from the inside garden. The blaring lights blinded me, and I was forced to completely rely on the stranger, unable to see. Shouts and screams originated from almost everywhere, and the sirens soon left the chorus of noises, the only good thing so far.

Perhaps Janson told the soldier to bring him? Or maybe this soldier is one of the bad people?

Sight had sort of returned by now, and all I could see were white walls, white floors, white ceilings, and sometimes people in white labcoats or black soldier uniforms scurrying about. None of them gave us a second glance, worrying about their own skin rather than some soldier running with the Cure in their hands. But as we turned a corner, I couldn't tear my eyes off of Amanda, our eyes almost glued to each other. She was frozen, stunned by my presence, yet as I gained distance from her she began to jog, dropping the tray of medical tools onto the floor.

I had thought that this really was a soldier, just like every other person that we had passed by. But then I saw the soldier draw one of his weapons and knew that this was no soldier coming to take me to Janson. In fact, quite the contrary.

Familiar whines emanated from the soldier in front of me, and, without hesitation, I pushed the gun before the "soldier" could pull the trigger, firing the ammunition away from Amanda. She looked relieved, starting to sprint over to me. However, she stopped when I shook my head, telling her no with a firm glare. Reluctantly, Amanda straightened up and ran away, turning the corner before the "soldier" could fire at her again.

A glint of metal flashed in the air with the sound of fluttering paper, and then I had caught the syringe before I could digest that Amanda had thrown something at me. The "soldier" glanced over their shoulder at me, but I had hidden the syringe quickly enough that they couldn't see what had just transpired behind them. There were way too many dangers to question what just happened, so the "soldier" just tsked and whisked me away to their destination.

Nothing I did would stop the "soldier" from practically dragging me through the hallways, shooting at anything that moved. Amanda's gaze, regretful and hurt, haunted me. I barely recognized that I was breathing in real fresh air, being pushed onto a most likely stolen Berg, and hearing the engines start up. The "soldier" finally released my wrist from their vice grip, and I absent-mindedly rubbed where it hurt.

The door behind me closed immediately. Afterwards, the "soldier" walked into one of the rooms and locked the door behind him with a loud click. I was left to do whatever in the halls of the berg as it took off by the sound of the engines.

My feet began to wander the quite small Berg, with only a few rooms. One of the doors were wide open, and when I poked my head in no one was there. One bed, one mirror, a dark brown wooden desk with a rickety chair and a bed with thin sheets in the corner. That was it.

I decided it would become my bedroom and locked the door behind me, wanting some privacy. After all, I couldn't let them see what I had in my pockets. I'm already lucky enough that the "soldier" was lazy and left me alone with potentially some sort of weapon in my pockets.

Plopping down in the squeaky wooden chair, I pulled out the syringe. A note had been taped onto it. Dread coiled in the pit of my stomach; if Amanda had taken the time to write it out, then she had been planning to give this to me before hand, and it must have been really important, too. After all, she never wrote out anything unless it needed to be permanent or secret.

 _Use this before you go to sleep. Do it without question. Please. I have not been able to sleep at night knowing that I had taken things dear to you and replaced it with the thing you hated most. I must give back what I had stolen, no matter what. Don't tell Janson about this. I truly am sorry._

 _Don't forget me._

This was rather important to Amanda from how the note was written. But what had she done to me that made her regret everything? What had she taken. What had she replaced it with? And what was this syringe goingbto do to fix it?

Though I had lots of questions, I decided that Amanda knew what was best. After all, she trusted me with a lot of her own secrets. Because she had written this down with blatant care and emotional turmoil —and because I trusted her— I injected myself with whatever was in the syringe.

I waited a few minutes, but nothing strange seemed to have happened. No hallucinations, no queasiness, no dizzyness. Everything seemed fine. Nothing bad had happened yet.

After I concluded that nothing harmful was in the syringe, I crawled into bed and ignored that I was likely to never see Janson or Amanda ever again. That night, I dreamed of the little bird in the garden, and fish that swam in the glistening lake without disturbing the glassy surface of the water.

 **And, that's it. A very short chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. See you in the next chapter/story!**

 **Song:**

 **Too afraid, to go inside**

 **For the pain of one more loveless night**

 **But the loneliness will stay with me**

 **And hold me 'til I fall asleep**

 **I'm a ghost of a girl that I want to be most**

 **I'm the shell of a girl that I used to know well**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything from the song above. (The Lonely) None of the lyrics are mine, so don't say I didn't tell ya.**

 **Poem:**

 **I have a disability**

 **That I can never, ever see**

 **For my eyes are gone**

 **And I'll never be**

 **A beautiful, perfect swan**

 **Note: This DOES belong to me.**


	10. A New “Last City”

**So, the last chapter was kind of a let down, and I'm sorry. This is a make-up chapter. Hope you enjoy! (Don't worry, I'm not close to being done with this story yet. Just working up to the part where I _might_ write some...You know.)**

 **Anyways, let's dive in!**

{*knock* *knock* *knock*}

I groaned, rolling over in my sleep and trying to cling onto the little warmth the sheets had to offer. "Just five more minutes," I muttered, hoping that whoever it was would take the hint and leave. I had the craziest dream where I was in a Maze with killer spiders and was chased all over the desert by Janson and this group called WCKD who wanted to kill us, with some sort of disease going on and Cranks and stuff, and then my best friend Newt died. He was the one that called me Tommy. And then Janson wanted my blood for the Cure and kill off a lot of people.

Actually, I don't think I want to finish that dream.

{*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*}

"Okay, okay, I get it!" I half-yell. I swing my legs off the bed and try to tame my wild hair a bit before taking a look around in confusion. This was not my room. Where was I?

{*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*}

Whoever was behind that door, they were relentless. At this point, I reasoned, they weren't going to kill me. If they took me someplace where they were going to kill me, they would break down the door in no time and kill me anyways. Might as well save both of us the time and just open the door.

So I unlocked the door and slowly opened it, squinting at whoever was outside. To my confusion, it was one of my friends from the dream, Minho. "Come on, Thomas! We have to go now, before Janson finds us!"

 _What? Go where?_ Puzzled, I opened my mouth to ask, but Minho(?) shook his head and half-dragged, half-pulled me out of the Berg I had been in. "I hope Janson didn't hurt your social skills," Minho half-joked, but I was too confused by my dream to humor him. Or what might have been a dream. It had felt so real, and someone from my dream was actually here, in front of me, pulling me through the familiar desert and heat towards a large black and grey blob.

His name wasn't really Minho, was it? Maybe it was Adam, or Yusef, or Jacob. But not Minho, right? My dream couldn't possibly be real. Janson would never kill people off...right?

Making sure I wouldn't cough on the amount of sand in the air, I asked, "What's your name?" To my relief, we slowed down enough for Minho to stare at me comfortably.

"You mean you don't remember me? What about Teresa? Newt?" Now fear settled into the bottom of my gut, along with guilt. He just named two other people in my dream, one of which died to protect me from himself. And I don't recall anything about these people other than in my dream, which they meant a lot to me. If it was real, then I had forgotten about them. I had forgotten about everything, even if it was for a short while. Or could it have been longer?

Minho's face twisted into one of disbelief and anger. "Do you really not remember anything about the Maze? The Deadheads? Chuck?" When I didn't respond immediately, Minho's grip tightened enough to rival the "soldier" from yesterday.

But none of us ever got to really say anything because someone shouted, "Halt!" Then I really got a chance to look at what used to be a black and grey blob.

It was a city with stone walls, stone buildings, and running electricity. Not only was there a city, but there were a lot of people with guns guarding the city. At least, that's what they look like they're doing. They were mostly males, yet I could easily see that females were also helping to guard the city. Some of the females were dressed in civilian clothing passing out loafs of bread to the soldiers, but most of them had guns and were definitely soldiers.

"Where _are_ we?" I ask Minho, who had cooled down enough from the sudden shout. We were a few yards away from the soldiers, one of which was walking towards us with their gun drawn but pointed at the ground.

Probably thinking about my sudden memory loss, Minho hesitated before responding. "It's...I really don't know how to explain this, but this city is like the Last City, with a better version of WCKD trying to find a Cure without having to resort to violence."

"The _better_ version of WCKD?" I snorted. Janson (according to my "memories") was really nice and loveable; however, if my dream and Minho are to be trusted, then he was the creepiest guy I had ever met. Even higher up in the creepy and evil bar than Markus, that old creepy guy who drugged me and Brenda. Any version of WCKD is somehow, in some way, wicked.

"Wait, you remember Janson and WCKD?"

"Well, sort of." I could see we really didn't have much time before the soldier arrived, so I had to talk really fast. "Most of my memories came back during a dream, so it was hard to believe you at first. But I do remember everything all the way up until we rescued you. I do know that WCKD is really bad, though."

Before Minho could continue, the soldier reache dus and asked Minho, "Is this Thomas?" Minho nodded, keeping his mouth shut. The soldier took one look at me, scanning my pockets possibly for any sign of weaponry, before returning back to the other soldiers to talk.

Minho turnes to me, kind of in disbelief that I actually forgot him. When I gesture for him to continue, he opens his mouth as if to say "Oh," but he can't seem to get the sound out. Once he decided that he can't say it, he just continues where he left off.

"I know it's hard to think of any version of WCKD to be good after that 'dream' of yours," here I scoffed, thinking that it was quite an understatement of how I felt now, "but I've talked with them, and I feel like we can trust them. They want to kill Janson as badly as you do. Or at least, as much as you used to."

"Well, a lot of people want to kill Janson and anyone involved with WCKD. It's not like they're special for wanting to murder Janson." Minho seemed a bit hurt that I wouldn't give these people a chance, but he doesn't know what I'm feeling right now. Janson not only made me forget, but he also made me think that he was perfect. He made me think I loved him. "And I think that I want to kill Janson the most out of anyone, period."

"Janson did some horrible things to you, but he also did horrible things to us as well. He's killed off so many people, did so many horrible things to people. How can you say that you hate him more than anyone else?" _Breathe. Minho doesn't know, and it would get worse to tell him._

Memories of Janson itched underneath the surface, but I didn't want to remember the memories that he had created, so I pushed them down, hoping the memories would stay away. "Do you know anything about what Janson did to me? Did you even _care_ enough to think about what he did to me without you there to even _consider_ that maybe I had more reasons than anyone else out there to hate him?" My voice was dangerously low, dipped in fury and handed coldly to Minho. Expressing how infuriated I was with Janson was probably not the best way to go, but I couldn't help it.

Minho was just _staring_ at me, not saying another word in fear that I could burst out again in anger, and I turned my head away from Minho, heaving a loud sigh, trying to change the topic. "So, how's the city like?" Minho looked away sheepishly, and I could feel my eye twitching. "You had to have at least _seen_ the inside of the city if you talked to them, right?"

His hand scratched the back of his neck, and Minho let out a very soft, short sigh. "Not exactly. They wouldn't let us in unless we brought you with us, to prove that we weren't actually with WCKD, and to gain protection. That's why I needed you to hurry, so we can get the protection we need before WCKD comes knocking at our door." _Of course, everything always, in some way, revolves around me._

"So, you trust them even though you have to have _me_ to get protection like everyone else?" Minho opened his mouth to respond, but never got a word in as the soldiers finished talking and now drawing out more guns. I raised my hands after seeing Minho do the same thing, slowly approaching them with Minho a bit in front.

Thebsoldier that had walked to us before now reappeared with another soldier out of the small crowd of soldiers. He raised an eyebrow at me, only to see Minho and nod. "Ah, it's you again." He turned back to me and said, "So this is Thomas?"

Right away another red flag had been raised, and Minho looked at me with some apprehension in his eyes. At least Minho has _some_ sense of danger. "Yes, he's Thomas." The soldier let off a warning shot, the bullet zipping past Minho's ears.

"Talk without permission again, and I'll give you a bullet for dessert." Rage tinted my vision red, and I walked right in between Minho and the new soldier, who had red hair and some stubble on his chin. Other soldiers tensed, but none of them had shot me yet, so I'm at least alive.

"Don't talk to Minho like that. All we want is protection from WCKD, and if you _truly_ are against WCKD, you'd at least hear us out before shooting us." Silence fell upon us, and every breath felt like it could be heard from a mile away. Despite everyone's eyes being on me, and any one of these soldiers could kill me right away, I stood my ground and locked eyes with the soldier in front of me.

The soldier gave a small smile to me and lowered his gun, prompting the other soldiers to do the same. One of the soldiers in the back, a raven-haired girl, spat on the ground and glowered in our direction. My attention, however, returned to the soldier right in front of me, who was grinning and spreading his arms wide. "Welcome, Thomas. We've heard of how stubborn and brave you are, but never could we have imagined you'd be like this!"

Her lips forming a frown on her face, the raven-haired girl leaned to another girl, one with strawberry-blonde hair and darker skin, and whispered something in her ear. Girl Two made a face and whispered back, getting Smiley over there to glare at her and storm away. "So, Thomas." The place and everyone here gave me the chills and sent up all kinds of red flags, yet I brushed it off for later and paid more attention to the red haired soldier. "Why are you being hunted down by WCKD?"

I glanced over at Minho, who shrugged at me and nodded. Seeing as how Minho gave me permission, I turned back to the soldier and said, "I think Minho has already told you. I'm the Cure."

Whispers arose from the crowd of soldiers, and I could see some of them rubbing an arm or a leg, perhaps infected or worried that they _could_ be infected. Everyone was giving each other looks of awe and suspicion, and the soldier was no different. His face was a mix of awe, desperation, and suspicion. "How can we know for sure that you are truly the Cure?"

Impatient, I tapped my foot against the ground and internally groaned. "Don't you have your own scientists that are trying to find the Cure? Just have one of them take my blood, do whatever they do to the blood, and then give it to one of the infected. If it doesn't work, then you can kick me out right away, along with my friends."

Nods and whispers was all I got as a response, and some of the soldiers broke off from the main group to pull the red head away and talk once again. Discussing our fates, the soldiers were talking and nodding, giving me a slimmer of hope that I wouldn't have to keep running away from WCKD. After what seemed like an hour but was somewhere close to six minutes, they at last finished discussing again, and the red head returned to us with something resembling a smile on his face. "We have decided that you can come in, but under certain conditions. If you don't like them, say so and leave."

Once me and Minho agreed to this, the red head continued. "First, we get to test your blood." I nodded. Easy enough.

"Second, you have to listen to what we say at all times, or else we can kick you out." Okay, a little bit of a red flag, but notiing too serious. I can deal with that.

"And that's it. What do you say?" Already I didn't like these people, but Minho said we could trust them, and he actually spoke with them longer than I have. I won't trust them, but I shouldn't just treat them horribly without even knowing them.

Hesitating, Minho shook hands with the red haired soldier and nodded, looking over at me expectantly. I couldn't not shake hands, because then we would have to run away from WCKD on our own. So I shook hands with the soldier, and everyone else there whispered and smiled, greeting us at times as we passed by. The red haired man told us to stay here and called out a cab, his sleeves coming down just enough for a thin black vein to peek out from underneath. Taking in a sharp breath, I tried to tell myself that it was just my imagination. Still, it was hard not to think about it whenever the man looks at me, a sliver of hope shining in his eyes that I hadn't noticed before.

Light shone down on us, and the red haired man opened the door for us, smiling all the while. Faker seemed like a good name for him because all of his smiles looked fake to me. Faker sat in front by the driver, and I sat in the back with Minho on my left, right behind Faker. Faker gave me one last look over his shoulder before he looked ahead, making small talk with the driver as we drove to who knows where.

Since Faker was distracted, I looked at Minho, feeling happier now that I was safe from WCKD, from Janson's lies. Minho did the same, and we began making small talk, making sure to keep our voices loud enough for Faker to hear, but low enough that we don't disturb their conversation. "So, what did that jacked up shuck-face do to you?" I winced. Of course Minho would ask that after my outburst, why would I ever think otherwise?

"I don't want to talk about it." I jerked my head towards Faker and the driver, letting Minho know what I meant. _I_ _don't want to talk about it here, in front of them._ Hope could only go so far, and right now I knew it was hopeless to think that Minho might forget it. "All I know is that it's gross and..." Shivers racked my body for a second, and I could still recall how Janson's lips felt, how he tricked me into thinking that his touches were what I wanted by invading my brain.

"How had you been doing, after that one time that we talked?" I could tell that I said it wrong by how Minho frowned.

"What are you talking about? We talked millions of times. You even talked with Teresa a bunch, but after Teresa...You know what happened to her." _Teresa._ That name popped up again. It was the girl with long black hair and beautiful eyes like diamonds. But last I checked, she was fine in my dream. What happened to her?

"What do you mean? What happened to her?!" Nothing needed to be said after I saw Minho's face. His eyes had been wide before he turned away from me in clear sorrow. Faker laughed at whatever the driver had said, and it sounded so fake I cringed.

"She's dead. Janson killed her after he caught us again." It was in a whisper, so I almost didn't catch it over Faker's laugh.

"Dead?" I repeated, surprised. She was so alive in my dream — no, memories. She was always showing her emotions, always so energetic, always so pretty and kind. Now Janson took her away. "But, why? Why would he do that?"

At this Minho faced him again, and a tear managed to slide down his cheek just long enough for me to see before dropping onto his lap. He wiped the others away. "Because he's a fucking bastard and can't stand people like her."

Faker said some snide comment about someone and the driver thought it was funny, laughing heartily. I poked my head out of a window to watch the entire city go by. Everyone seemed friendly enough, waving at each other, calling friends out by name on the streets. I even saw some colorful lights dancing alongside teenagers at some party.

We stopped in front of a building much like the one in the Last City. Faker ended his conversation with the driver and left the car, telling us to follow. After we exited the vehicle, Faker bid the driver goodbye, and the driver did the same, driving off to pick up another person. "Alright, follow me. And don't touch anything unless we tell you to," Faker said, giving us another fake smile as he did so.

As we walked into the building, I could tell that Faker was watching me every so often, glancing back whenever I wasn't looking. Or so he thought. I learned to look oblivious but be vigilant in WCKD, when I had to in order to get the personnel to relax and start talking about what was happening outside. So I saw every sneaky look he gave me, and all of them gave me the chills. I didn't like Faker, and I couldn't trust him.

Minho saw some every so often, and I know this because he would tighten his hold on my arm whenever Faker looked back at me, as if to remind himself that I'm right beside him. Taking every step with him. Every now and then a scientist would walk past us, and I would get horrific flashbacks to my time inside WCKD. I reminded myself that no, Janson is not here with me. I wasn't in WCKD anymore.

An elbow nudged me, and I looked over at Minho, who was trying to catch my attention. "I don't like the way he keeps looking at you," Minho whispered, glaring at Faker behind his back.

I shrugged and whispered back, "But what choice do we have? If we want to stay here, we need to follow him. Doesn't mean we have to trust him, though," I added, hoping it would placate Minho.

Faker stopped right in front of us, doing it so suddenly that I almost bumped right into him. "Alright, this is where Asian kid," he pointed to Minho, "has to leave." He gripped my arm, as if to drag me, and WCKD soldiers popped into mind, dragging me through never-ending hallways. My breathing grew heavier, until it felt like there was a rock or a weight on my chest.

My arm was released, and once I blinked I realized that Minho was there, squeezing Faker's wrist and causing Faker to cry out in pain. "I'm not going anywhere." If the situation wasn't so tense, I would have facepalmed. We've barely been here for an hour, and Minho was already breaking rule number two. "Thomas will have a heart attack if I let him go with those shuck-faces by himself."

"I told you that you had to listen to what we say to you," Faker growled, trying not to squeal in pain like a little girl. "And if you don't, we have the right to kick you out."

 _Why am I always the one breaking these two up?_ Prying Minho's hand off of Faker's arm, I pushed the two away from each other, glaring at each one of them equally. "What is _wrong_ with you two? We've been here for less than an hour, and already you've been in three fights." Faker looked ready to defend himself, but I silenced him with a glower and a hiss.

"Not now." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, wincing when I pulled on a tangle. "Minho, stop acting like a child who wasn't given ice cream when he was promised one. And you," I pointed at Faker, spooking him, "stop acting like you _own_ this place because I sure as hell know that you _don't_. I bet you _they_ have more power in this place than you." I jabbed a thumb at someone randomly behind me, and Faker paled considerably.

"M-Mrs. Beldom! U-Umm..." Faker's knees were shaking, and he seemed ready to vomit. I raised a eyebrow at his somewhat bipolar behavior, strutting about the hallways before cowering at someone else. Behind me, I could hear high heels hitting the floor, and I swiveled my head to look over my shoulder, almost choking on my very breath.

There, walking towards us, was a younger version of Ava Paige, her hair reaching the middle of her back, and her face was free of wrinkles. Her eyes were brighter and more energetic, and she commanded others more efficiently, always saying something to someone in a polite tone. Everyone around her looked willing to do anything for her, always scurrying about to do as she says. Almost instantly, a sense of distaste formed, swirling about in my gut like something that was difficult to digest.

My body turned about so my neck wouldn't hurt anymore, having been twisted for a longer period of time than it should. Mrs. Beldom walked towards us, her hips being forced to sway from her high heels, and I could see a big difference between her and Ava. Whereas Ava was always wearing white or gray, she was wearing black and had so much makeup on my nickname for her was The Clown. Seriously, she was always smiling with her lipstick that looked like she painted it on her face, and her cheeks were so pale they were almost white. Another difference was that she had every bit of everyone's attention and adoration here, even making those who are cocky fear her, whereas with Ava she got shot by her "comrade" and—

 _Don't think about it._ Taking in a shaky breath, I tried to push the memory back to the back of my mind. Too soon for my liking, Mrs. Beldom had reached us and stopped when she was about to pass by. "Thomas! It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

Mrs. Beldom grinned, showing off her flawless white teeth, which contrasted her bright red lipstick. Her black dress was tight-fitted, showing off her curves. If she didn't remind me so much of Ava, I might have considered her pretty. "Ava often talked about how stubborn you were, and I can tell right away that you're not one to back down from a challenge." She gave me the creeps, and I hated her right off the bat.

Her fingers, nails painted red, wrapped around my wrist, her fingers just as white as the rest of her. "Come on, we have no time to lose! We need to examine you now." She pulled me along, stronger than one would think. Protests from Minho fell on deaf ears, and when Minho tried to follow she waved her hands in his general direction.

"No distractions!" That's all she said, and when I looked back Minho was being blocked off by the nurses, who were insisting that he stay behind. She turned around a corner, and I lost any sight of Minho. He didn't follow.

She opened a door, this one with a handle instead of the normal sliding doors WCKD had, and gestured for me to enter first. Understanding that it probably wouldn't be polite to refuse, I entered first, and Mrs. Beldom closed the door behind her. "Now, give me your arm," she muttered absent-mindedly, rummaging through one of the many drawers in the room. I obliged, pulling up my sleeve to allow her better access.

When Mrs. Beldom turned around, she let out a small gasp when she saw what I did. "I didn't expect you to actually _listen_! Ava was very condescending about you, saying you were thick-headed, but she was wrong about that!" Mrs. Beldom threw praise after praise at me, as if I was a child seeking attention from a teacher or a parent.

She stuck the syringe into one of my veins, taking some of my blood before gently placing a bandaid over the small wound. "Seriously, you're much more polite than any of our men here. And definitely more cuter!" Heat rushed to my cheeks after she said that, and Mrs. Beldom winked at me before moving to the other side of the room.

Opening the door, Mrs. Beldom called a doctor into the room, handing the blood over to them and demanding that they hurry, with a much nicer tone than I would expect. "Oh, I'm sorry! I never introduced myself! I'm Diana Beldom, though you should know me from Ava." She stuck out a hand for me to shake, and I took it, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"I'm sorry, but Ava and I never really talked about anything other than the Cure." Mrs. Beldom's face darkened, and she actually looked frightening, seeming ghostly and out for revenge. But then she smiled, and her face brightened up once more, freaking me out even more. _Definitely bipolar._

"Oh, of course she did! She's always on the lookout, always such a workaholic! Of course she would never mention me, I'm the child that's always cheery and bright, while she's the moody child of the family." Her bottom lip stuck out, and Mrs. Beldom seemed...childish, in a way.

Then what she said finally hit me, and I asked, "Wait, you're related? No wonder you look like a younger version of Ava, and definitely not as old-looking." After what I said settled in, I thought that _maybe_ it wasn't one of the best things to say. Insulting her by calling her a "younger version of Ava" was most likely one of the worst things to say, judging from her attitude towards Ava never mentioning her. And insulting someone's family member was almost never going to get a good reaction.

Thankfully, Mrs. Beldom let it slide and cheerfully grinned. "Oh, do I? I guess it makes me the _better_ version of Ava!" She posed, sticking out a hip and olacing a finger to her chin, and it almost had me laughing. Feeling a bit down at the moment, I just gave a smile, and Mrs. Beldom sighed.

"Well, Ava was right about a few things. You're a tough nut to crack." Mrs. Beldom brought a fist down onto her open palm, her eyes shining in determination. "Still, I won't give up! I'm going to make you laugh one of these days!"

When no reaction came, Mrs. Beldom sighed and slumped her shoulders, seeming tired from trying to make me laugh. "Wow, usually people at least _smile_ when they see that. How gloomy can you get?" I didn't respond, merely stared at Mrs. Beldom until she finally opened the door and let me out.

As we walked down the hallways, everyone was whispering and gesturing excitedly. A crank screeched from down one hallway before it quieted, and all of the doctors and nurses were standing as if they were paralyzed, waiting for any news. A door creaked open, and a doctor stepped out. All eyes were on him, and he responded with, "We're going to have to wait until the Crank gets better. But I think it's safe to say that it will get better."

Everyone in the hallways cheered, and I could make out what some of them were saying. "We finally found the Cure!" "We're going to be saved!" "No more Cranks being shipped out in our city!"

Smiles were everywhere, and I felt a bit happier knowing that these people really just wanted the Cure to the Flare. Thankful that they weren't like WCKD. After that euphoria that I got, I saw Mrs. Beldom studying my expression, a smile splitting her face. "Don't you see what we're doing? We just want the Cure, and with your help we'll finally get it!"

Somehow, it seemed to similar to what Janson or Ava had said, but not exactly there. No, it felt more like what Teresa would say.

 _"Don't you get it? Brenda isn't sick anymore because...because you cured her...There's still time to save Newt...Just come back to me."_

 _"You can save us all."_

 _"I promise...I will—!" *BANG*_

"Thomas?" A blink and I was back, Mrs. Beldom looking at me with a concerned expression. It looked _wrong_ on her face. "Is something wrong?"

I didn't want to talk about it, and, thankfully, I didn't have to. A soldier, the strawberry-blonde from outside the city with Smiley back there, burst through one of the doors, panting heavily. "There's someone outside of the city, and I think it's one of WCKD's doctors or nurses. They're asking for Thomas to come out. They want to say something to Thomas."

"What are you waiting for?!" I jumped out of my skin, terrified by how Faker just materialized out of nowhere. "Kill the mother-fucker!"

"But she has a bomb somewhere on her." The girl swallowed, and I felt some sympathy towards the girl. She probably has never had this ever happen to her. "If we don't comply, she'll explode. We only have an hour and ten minutes left, and if we don't respond, she'll blow up."

"Let her blow up!" My jaw dropped at how heartless Faker was. "We can't lose Thomas, he could cure us all!"

"I bet you that WCKD has more explosives around the city." Mrs. Beldom spoke up, and everyone fell silent. "If she blows up, then all of the explosives around the city blow up as well. We need to let her speak to Thomas. For the good of our people."

Faker sputtered, not knowing how to react to Mrs. Beldom going right against his opinion. "It's Sadia, right?" Sadia nodded, awe-struck that someone as powerful as Mrs. Beldom actually remembered her name. "Go bring Thomas over to the personnel, now." Sadia nodded, grabbing my arm and pulling me through the doors she had just burst out of.

The maze of hallways were disorienting, but Sadia knew where she was going, as adept as traversing this as Minho was in the Maze. She ran through the hallways, guiding me down multiple flights of stairs and avoiding the traffic of people in the hallways. Everything was a blur.

We made it out to the street, and I could see a cab deiving down the lane. Sadia waved frantically at the cab, and the driver pulled over. After a quick summary of the situation, we hopped on and the driver went as fast as he could. We made it back to where I had entered the city in half the time that it took to get to the building I was in from here.

"I'll make it up to you later, I promise!" The driver nodded and drove off, not wanting to stick around for the aftermath. Sadia almost pushed me out of the city, telling me to "Go!" Stumbling out, I lifted a hand against the bright sun blinding me and gasped out loud.

There, in front of the crowd of soldiers, was Amanda.

 **So, this is the end. (Yay!) Hope you liked this make up chapter.**

 **Poem:**

 **Freedom isn't free**

 **Nothing in this world is**

 **Try just to be**

 **And you'll fall in the abyss**


	11. Bombs And Creeps (And A Confession)

**So, I hope that the last chapter was good enough for you. I think that it was, but who knows? Please don't hate me. My friend said it was good, but I think she was just saying it to be nice. I even made it extra long to make it up to you. _Pleeeaaase_ don't be mad.**

 **I am very insecure. My friend is more outgoing, but I am the quiet kid. That's the only reason I write at all. So, please be nice when you say it sucks. Thank you.**

 **Now, let's continue...**

Amanda stood in front of the soldiers, and took all the verbal abuse Smiley was giving her. Even though I have barely known Amanda, I could tell that she was getting riled up underneath the blank look she was wearing at the moment. Smiley pushed Amanda, and everyone held their breath, thinking that the bomb might go off. "Go on! Do it!" she screamed, holding Amanda by the collar of her purple shirt.

"Katy!" Smily, aka Katy, paused in her asault of Amanda. Sadia ran up to Katy and Amanda, stopping only to breathe before prying Katy's fingers off of Amanda's shirt. "What are you doing?" Katy was livid, foaming at the mouth.

Then our eyes locked, and Katy lost it. She screamed and pulled her hair, before charging at the crowd, intending to reach me. Sadia pulled on her shirt, encouraging others to hold her back as well. Katy screamed, yelling, "You sick fuck! Why are you just watching me die like all the other scientists?!"

Her shirt began to rip, and Sadia let go as if the shirt had burned her, but it was ripped enough to reveal a maze of black veins criss-crossing along her stomach. The rips thankfully didn't reveal anything men aren't usually supposed to see, but we could see that she was infected, which was a whole lot worse. A male soldier wrapped something around Katy's mouth, to keep her from biting, but I could still hear Katy screaming. Tears streamed down Sadia's cheeks, and she sank to the floor, sobbing as they took Katy away.

She turned to me, her eyes bloodshot from crying, and she dove for me, wrapping her arms around me and sobbing into my chest. Very confused and uncomfortable, I loosely hugged the girl and tried to soothe her, but I couldn't get the words out od my mouth. It reminded me too much of Janson after he—

"Thomas?" I lifted my head to see Amanda walking forward, her face alight with emotion. "I need to tell you something. If you don't come back, Janson will blow this place up. I didn't want to meet you again like _this_ , but—!" Suddenly Amanda stopped, clearly unused to being this emotional in front of so many people. She swallowed, regaining her composure in front of everyone.

"Janson is giving you a choice, Thomas. He wants you back." Talking about Janson was physically hard on her. I could hear the strain in her voice as she forced herself to finish. "If you don't come back, he'll blow up the city and force you back anyways. He hopes that you choose to come back."

"Why does he want me? Why does he always do this to me?!" Amanda didn't answer. But her eyes glistened with sympathy, and for just a moment, she hugged me. Then she left, and it felt so much better to hug her than any other person in the world.

"I'm sorry, Thomas. All I can do for you is this." I clung to her like a child, burying my face into her shirt. I needed her more than anything. Even in my dreams, she was the nicest person. She helped me so much, and I couldn't bear for her to leave me.

She shoved something into my hands. It was a container containing some green liquid that sloshed around. "You know what to do with this," she whispered in my ear, squeazing me just a smidge tighter.

Then she truly pulled away, straightening her spine and glaring at the crowd of soldiers. "You," she commanded, pointing at Sadia. Sadia squeaked, unused to Amanda's tone. "Tell Ms Beldom that Thomas has aplastic anemia. We had no time for any treatment before he had to leave. Make sure she knows about it and treats it if she has enough time. Okay?" Sadia nodded vigorously in terror.

"Thomas." The sun was behind Amanda, and though it hurt to look, I kept my eyes on her. Never once looking away. "Thank you. Remember, I was never here." *BANG*

Horrified, I watched Amanda collapse to the floor, the dirt beneath her soaking up the blood flowing out of her head. No one could speak, and Amanda lay there in silence. Then, I could hear an explosion from the distance. Smoke billowed from behind the wall, and everyone gaped in shock.

"Katy...?" A whisper, barely louder than the silence, floated by. Sadia's tears had dried up, her hand raised to her mouth in horror and shock. She turned to me, crying, "Save Katy! _Please_!"

She grabbed my arms in hysteria, screaming and crying. "She can't die now! Not when the Cure is right here! SAVE HER!" Two female soldiers gave me sympathetic looks as they dragged Sadia away, appearing to be barely holding back their own tears.

I couldn't speak. There was no time. Running back into the city, my feet were on autopilot as I ran through the streets, managing to avoid the cars somehow. Everything was a blur. I can't remember anything other than the torrent of emotions swirling about, fighting each other for dominence.

Then I saw Mrs. Beldom, surprised at my face, and I began demanding that they take my blood and make another batch of the Cure. I can still remember what she asked. "Why? We don't even know if it can actually cure anyone."

"Come on! I need to save Katy from the Flare! Do it, please!" Begging on my knees was something I never thought I would do, but I was actually on my knees and begging anyone to make the Cure.

At last, a doctor stepped forward and took my blood, hurrying over to the lab where all the chemicals were located. It took a while, but they managed to bring Katy in before she was thrown out. She was clinging onto her santiy, but it was slowly slipping from her. Her screeches were unbearable, and my ears felt like they were bleeding as she screamed.

Howls from behind the door entered the hallway, and no one stayed to hear the rest of it. I sat in the hallway, receiving pitying glances and sympathetic looks, but I paid no attention to them. Worry sat in my gut like a stone, and anger curled around my heart, icy and cold. Janson wants me back...for what, exactly? Why would I leave if these people are actually trying to save the world from the Cure?

 _Janson will kill them all. It doesn't matter if they are cured or not if they are all dead._ All of my friends were here, in this town. If I don't leave, Janson will just blow them all up.

 _But how will I know that Janson won't just bomb them all anyways? How can I be_ sure _that my friends will be safe if I leave?_ I wasn't sure. In fact, I believe that no matter what I do, these people will die. _But I have to try._

Nothing could change my mind now. I had to leave, for the chance that Janson _might_ stick to his word and not blow everyone up. Maybe I could convince Janson not to kill anyone, or jail them. But that was a big if.

My train of thought braked when someone cleared their throat, twice. I lifted my head and almost began to cry right then and there. It was Brenda from my dream, waving her hand at me and smiling. Behind her, I could see Gally, Vince, Jorge, Minho, Sonya, Harriet, and Aris all grinning at me. They had all been there with me, and they're still alive. And healthy.

Before I could cry, I embraced Brenda, hugging her just as tightly as she was. Everyone else joined in, and we were all hugging and trying to hold back tears. Now I knew, I knew I couldn't not leave. If I can save them, even if it's a lie and Janson will kill them anyways, I had to try. Otherwise, what was the point of seeing another day?

"Thomas, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it sooner! They wouldn't let us in, but Mrs. Beldom finally allowed us to meet you and—I'm so sorry!" Brenda burst into tears, crying into my shoulder. I patted her back and smiled, knowing that my cheeks would burn later.

I don't mind, though. For my friends (even though it had all felt like a dream, I knew every part of it was real), smiling is _always_ worth it. "Brenda, don't cry over something that trivial. I should have tried to come by you guys instead of you coming to me." Brenda gasped and pulled away, half-heartedly glaring at me.

"Don't say that!" Brenda huffed and looked away, seemingly mad at me, though her smile told a completely different story.

"Hey, Greenie." Gally moved to be in my view, trying to glare, but his lips felt the need to smile. "Don't forget about us."

Every part of me screamed to laugh, but I grinned instead. "How could I forget you?" I ignored the fact that I had, in fact, forgotten them and instead shook Gally's hand. Sonya and Harriet tried to edge in, and I was split between who to talk to. Everyone was talking over each other, and for a few minutes I forgot about why I was even there.

However, everything comes to an end, and this was no different. Clearing her throat, Mrs. Beldom took all of our attention. "I was hoping that you would get Thomas to laugh, but cracking a smile is good enough, I suppose."

Then Mrs. Beldom moved on to more pressing matters. "Thomas, I have been told everyone else's side of the story, but you probably know more than everyone else. Tell me everything, and no holding back. Now, follow me. Let's go somewhere more private."

Bumping into scientists every so often, we were following Mrs. Beldom into a room when I came across a window and saw the damage from the explosion. My legs stopped moving, and I could only stare at what had happened to part of the city. Parts of the buildings were all over the streets, and the stone was blackened. There was a tiny blood splatter _all the way up here_ , in the right corner of the window.

"Oh, yes. Quite a tragedy. It seemed that your friend was the trigger, not the actual bomb. We still don't know how WCKD did it, but we're examining the body for any clues." _How can you just refer to Amanda as 'the body?!'_

Silently seething under the surface, I let Mrs. Beldom escort us to the private room, closing the door behind us. The noises from out in the hallway silenced once the door shut, and it reminded me of my room in WCKD. _Stop, you're not in WCKD...yet._

"Please, have a seat." With a strained smile, I sat down in one of the chairs surrounding a large grey table, my friends doing the same. Mrs. Beldom sat across from me, all of her movements refined. "Now, who was she?"

Contemplating my answer, I gave some of the truth. "She was one of the personnel in WCKD. More like a nurse than anyone else. Her name was A—Dr. Crawford." Her first name seemed wrong to say aloud, and I just couldn't force myself to say it.

Mrs. Beldom nodded in understanding, I think. Her painted nails tapped against the table, and stress grew with each tap. "Okay," she said slowly, drawing out the word longer than she normally would have. "So, why did she want to talk to you?"

All eyes were on me, and I could feel sweat begin to form on my skin. "She—She was there to tell me that Janson knows I'm here." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see everyone tense. "If I don't come out, he'll kill everyone here and take me anyways."

"Janson? Isn't he the Assistant Director? What about Ava?" Oblivious to Ava's fate, Mrs. Beldom watched me expectantly. I winced and lowered my head.

"Ava's dead." Horror was written all over Mrs. Beldom's face, and I hardly looked at her for a second before looking away. "Janson shot her a long time ago, though how long ago I do not know.

Mrs. Beldom was quiet for a few seconds, before clearing her throat. Her mascara was running a bit, but Mrs. Beldom hardened her face. "Well, that's...unpleasant news to hear." Guilt washed over me at the sound of Mrs. Beldom's wavering voice.

"Let's continue, shall we?" Relieved that Mrs. Beldom was changing the subject, I nodded gratefully. "So, Janson wants you back, and he'll kill anyone to get to you?" I nodded, nervous at how Mrs. Beldom phrased it. _Would_ Janson actually kill anyone to get at me?

Yes. Yes, he would.

"What's so important about you, then? Why does he want you so badly?" My mouth opened, ready to say probably one of the biggest reasons why—I can't. My hands were clammy and cold, and I swallowed nervously. I couldn't do it.

"Because I'm the Cure. The only one that exists right now." There. It is one of the reasons.

Though I knew that she couldn't read my mind, her eyes seemed to see right through me. She leaned forward a bit, and my hands became slick with sweat. "Is that the _only_ reason?" Everyone stared at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

I wanted—no, I _needed_ to say yes, to say everything. But I couldn't. My mouth wouldn't let me. The only thing I could say was "Yes." Nothing more would come out.

Mrs. Beldom was satisfied for the moment, nodding but not quite believing. Her face told me she wanted to talk more about it, but, gratefully, she moved on. "What did they do to you in WCKD?"

It was so easy. All I needed to do was say it—and then I'd be free. Yet, it was so hard, even impossible, to say the truth. "They just locked me up, put me to sleep and then they would take my blood." _And Janson was a creep. He made me believe that I had been in love with him. He took away all of my memories and kissed me multiple times._

"Okay, that's enough information." A sigh escaped me, and my shoulders slumped. Why can't life just let me relax? Mrs. Beldom started to stand and then stopped, like she forgot something. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

 _Yes._ "No," I replied. Helplessly stuck, I was forced to watch myself leave with my friends, talking with them and smiling whenever they did or said something humorous. But I felt like a puppet, manipulated and forced to stay silent. Like Janson was physically there with me, telling me to keep quiet or else.

Every time I tried to _really_ talk to my friends, or act out of character, I couldn't do it. It was so _humiliating_ , having your friends be _right there_ , only for yourself stopping you from telling your friends that something was off, that Janson had done more to me than I said. We made it to a cab, where we bid goodbye to Mrs. Beldom.

Brenda brushed a piece of hair out of her face and behind her ear, and that was when I noticed that her hair grew longer. It was now below the shoulder, long and dark.

 _Like Teresa's hair._

The thought was gone as fast as it came, leaving me confused as to how I felt about Teresa. "Hey, Thomas?" Time for me to come out of my mind.

I nodded, showing that I was paying attention, and Brenda continued. "What did Janson do with the Cure once it was made?" That question actually got me thinking. _What_ did _Janson do with the Cure?_

"To keep control over people." My mouth moved before I could think, and it kept rolling along. "He wants total control, so he would force people to do what he wanted in order for them to get the Cure, and if they didn't do what they were told, Janson would take them off of both lists."

"Lists of what?" That was the same question I had asked before, with no answer. This time, however, I seemed to know, for I answered without hesitation.

"First list is whether or not they can have the Cure. The second list is for the people in WCKD. If the people in WCKD are untrustworthy, Janson erases them off of the list and writes their names down on a seperate list, the one that has the names of potential traitors." _How do I know all of this?_

Mouth hanging open, Brenda had a shocked and horrified expression, similar to Sadia's when the explosion had occured. "Wow. Not even the people who work for WCKD are safe, huh?" I shook my head, but another thought came into my mind. Is that why Amanda killed herself? Because she wasn't safe?

We stayed silent for the rest of the car ride. There was nothing to fill that silence with, and I didn't even try. There was no point. Everyone on the streets were all mourning at least someone that had died in the explosion, and gloom settled on the whole city like a fog.

Once we arrived to the room, the workers there ushered me into a seperate room than the ones my friends were staying in. It was rather pleasant. A soft bed, fuzzy blankets, a nightstand, and a clean bathroom. There was a dresser with a mirror on top.

When I looked into the mirror, I half-expected the mirror to crack. My reflection looked _awful_. Dark circles were prominent, I looked skinny as hell, my hair was an absolute mess, and my clothes had gotten somewhat dirty. My cheekbones stood out more prominently than they had before, and then I remembered that I had nothing to eat for two days at least.

Everything had happened so fast that I forgot about my emtpy stomach, which came back with a vengeance. It felt like a beast was gnawing away at my insides, wanting something to eat, and I staggered to the door. I needed to find food. Anything to eat and pacify my stomach for the time being.

With a shaky hand, I managed to twist the doorknob and open the door. Not more than a few steps out, and I couldn't walk without a hand on the wall, supporting me as I searched for food. My throat was parched, and my entire body felt like one big bruise. One of my feet tripped on the other, and I almost crashed into the ground. Luckily, I managed to steady myself before I could fall, but I wasn't in the clear just yet. I had to go to the kitchen.

A blessing came in the form of a staff member, whom I asked for any food. He readily agreed, and guided me through the building we were staying in. I looked like klunk, but the staff was nice and concerned over my well being, handing me a big, tasty sandwich with some blueberries and an apple on the side. He allowed me to eat in the kitchen, and I ate slowly, desiring to appear normal and not half-starved. He handed me a glass of water, and I took tiny sips, sighing when my throat finally felt normal. "Thanks," I said, and I wanted to say more, but it would only embarrass the staff member more, and I didn't want that. He smiled and helped me back to my room, telling me to come to him if I needed anything else. I said goodbye and closed my door, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

First things first, a shower. One hopefully without Janson lurking just outside the bathroom door. Staggering over to the bathroom, I cursed at how unresponsive my legs were being. It took ages to get them to finally take a step, and when they finally took that step, my feet struggled to keep me up. I felt like I was walking through syrup or molasses, but I somehow managed to make it to the bathroom before my legs started to wobble.

There was no way I would be able to stand in the shower. Maybe there was a bathtub? There actually was, tucked away by the toilet. But the sides were really tall. It would be too hard to get into the bathtub, especially when I can't even balance myself with two feet. However, I did spy a stool hidden behind the shampoo bottles. I would be able to sit down in the shower with a stool without having to risk falling trying to get into the bathtub.

Using the bathtub walls to hold me up, I push aside the bottles and manage to pull the stool out of its hiding place. Now that I have the stool, I need to see if I have everything else in the shower. Surprisingly the shower was well stocked, with enough shampoo, soap, and conditioner to last a month. Unfortunately, the person who stocked this shower must have thought that I was a girl, for there wasn't any shampoo for men. Ugh, Gally was going to have a field day. Probably.

The shower had been okay. The only problem was that the stool moved sometimes and got slippery, so I would sit down and then slide off the stool to land on the floor. And with how fragile I felt now, it felt like I had been shot the moment I hit the floor.

When I opened my eyes, I instantly regretted it. Janson was standing there, a dark look on his face. His foot tapped against the ground, expressing his irritation in a way words couldn't. He was looking at something behind me, but all that was behind me was the door that I had just closed.

Janson snarled, "Leave." Footsteps faded away into nothing, and I jumped, startled by how _loud_ it was. But there was no one here. "It's nice to finally see you again, Tommy." He smiled, showing off his teeth, much like a predator would to its prey.

"It's another shucking nightmare," I whisper, sitting down on my bed and refusing to meet Janson's eyes. "He's not really here. Janson isn't here."

Yelping when Janson grabbed my wrist out of nowhere, I try to pull it out of his hand. But he locks my arm in place, and I can't move. "You're so adorable when you try to lie to yourself," a familiar voice said, low and amused. Breathing heavily in fear, I shut my eyes tightly and turned away from where Janson was seated. A dark laugh echoed from my left, and, against my will, I shuddered. A digit ran along my jaw, leaving behind a trail of frigid skin.

For once, I couldn't think about anything other than the sensations of his icy fingers, and Janson seemed to become more real and solid as time passed. "Why do you always talk to them, Tommy?" Growls fill the void, and I cower underneath Janson's touches and words. "Why can't you just talk to me? Why can't you just be with me, instead of _them_?"

"Because you wouldn't get it." My body moved on its own, doing things despite my desire to not respond. This was different than my usual hallucination, where Janson would pin me to my bed and lean so close to me that only an inch of air kept us apart. "You don't get what I've gone through, you've been causing all of my problems, and you'll always be a weird creep in my eyes. You'll always be the villain."

Against my wishes, my eyelids fluttered open, and I could see...hurt(?) in Janson's eyes. "That's how you really feel about me?" Nodding, my eyes couldn't stray from Janson's eyes. It was like I was paralyzed. The silence was so palpable I could feel it pushing down on my skin.

Then his lips peeled back into a snarl, and he shouted, "You lie!" I scurried away from Janson as he began to scream, throwing multiple things to the floor. The lights flickered, casting Janson's enraged face in shadows. "You're lying to me!" he screamed, slamming me into the wall and pinning me there.

In this moment, Janson looked like a Crank, crazed and furious. Shaking with fear, I cower back as Janson leans closer; though he started to calm down, Janson still kept me pinned to the wall and screamed. "You're lying to me! Just yesterday you were holding my hands, concerned about me, wanting me to stay with you. You loved me then. No, you _still_ love me," he insists, pushing me further into the wall as he talks.

Then Janson leans closer, enough so that his breath begins to tickle my skin. He stares right into my eyes, as if searching for something that was hidden in them. I want to lean away, to run away, but I can't move, can't fight against Janson in this position against the wall.

He breathed in deeply for a while, calming down just enough for him to loosen his death grip upon my arms. However, I still couldn't get any leeway against him while pinned to the wall. He had to loosen his grip further in order for my arms to be able to push him away.

"I'm sorry, Tommy." His voice cracked, and he looked at me with what looked like genuine regret. "I know you love me, but your friends have convinced you otherwise." Janson moved himself so now we were nose to nose, and our lips were only a few inches apart. "Don't worry. When you're back with me, I'll let you into the garden and you can show me how much you love me there." My heart started to pound against my chest as Janson nuzzled my neck. I could hear him breathing in my scent, letting out a small moan as he breathed out.

"You're just as perfect here as you are in real life. It's almost as if I'm actually here with you." The way Janson said it, soft and longingly, grips my heart in pure terror. His hand drifts through my locks of hair, and Janson closes his eyes, lost in the feeling.

His mouth left my neck, heading for my jaw and nipping gently at the skin there. Each soft bite sent a new tendril of fear snaking down my spine, and I whimpered as Janson began moving up again. Our eyes locked onto each other, and one of his frigid hands cradled my face lovingly. "I'll help you, Tommy. I promise," he whispered, letting his promise settle before leaning in.

Our lips touch once more, and this time the kiss is much deeper than the light and gentle one in the lab and the garden. This one isn't gentle, apprehensive, tentative, or however you want to call it—no, this one was demanding and brutal, bruising my lips in the process. Janson's arms are wrapping around me, holding me in a tight embrace as he continues the kiss. I groan and try to push him away, but the way he embraces me prevents me from getting a good enough hold and wiggle my way out.

Janson finally pulled away, licking his lips in a revolting manner. The taste of his lips lingered, and it was sickening. How he could have ever convinced my brain that I loved him was beyond me.

"Tommy..." Now that I knew that Newt was really the one that had called me that first, I growled low and deep at Janson for daring to say that name so many times and claim it as his. However, Janson ignored how angry I was and instead gently kissed me on the forehead. "I love you," he breathed in my ear with a smirk.

My first instinct was to deny that it was love he felt, but doing that would cause him to go wild again. "Don't you love me, Tommy?" Janson stared at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell him that I had been lying, that it was a joke. That I actually loved him.

It would have been easy to just say it. To say that I loved him, that I had been lying. But I refused to give in like that. I would not let this man, the one who had made me forget everyone I had met, hear me utter those words. Ever.

I shifted my legs, getting prepared to buck him off of me. His hold on me had loosened significantly, so I decided that I needed to give him one final push. Stuttering, I said, "Janson, I..." and looked down to whisper some nonsense. As I had expected, Janson moved closer to me, essentially releasing me in his attempt to hear what I had said.

Immediately I yanked my arm out of his hand and pushed him away from the door and off of the bed. Janson shouted in surprise before shrieking in anger, and I threw the door open to leap out into the hallway and find some sort of exit.

A kind, shy nurse gasped in surprise when I burst out of my room, almost dropping her tray. "I'm so sorry," I said, frantically searching for the exit sign.

"Holy cow!" she exclaimed, heaving from the shock. "What the hell is going on?"

"No time to explain!" Where was the exit?! None of the walls had any arrow pointing to the stairs or the exit, and my mind drew up a blank as to where the stairs were.

"But, why not? Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Because..." Now I stopped to think. Janson should have been chasing after me by now, right? After all, I had been with the nurse for way too long.

When I looked behind me, I sigh a breath of relief. Janson had disappeared. Though my heart refused to believe he was gone, I wandered back into the room and quickly scanned the room for Janson. He was gone. I apologized to the nurse again and closed the door.

 _Maybe Janson will forget about me, or find another Cure._ Even the part of me that said that knew it was never going to happen. Although I knew it was foolish to believe that idea, I still clung onto that hope since there was nothing else for me to hold onto.

Now that Janson was gone, I tried to relax a bit before taking the syringe and filling it with the green liquid. Then I injected it into my arm and pulled the sheets up to my neck, knowing now to expect another "dream." But I couldn't manage to close my eyes. The thought of Janson reappearing when I'm in a vulnerable state sent another wave of shaking and panicked breathing. I just couldn't go to sleep. My body burned and was sweating like crazy. I need something to help me go to sleep.

When I tried to get up for some water again, I stumbled from the sudden lack of energy and strength that I had. Everything started to spin, and I fell back down on my bed. Bile hovered in the back of my throat, hesitant to make an appearance.

 **And, that's it. Hope you liked it, and I'm sorry for not uploading the other stories, but I had multiple ideas for this story that I couldn't wait to write. So, don't be mad.**

 **Anyways, creepy Janson is back! (Yay!) It might seem a bit confusing how Janson was there, but don't worry. I have an explanation. It seems far fetched, but WCKD has a lot of technology, so I say yes, the explanation is very possible.**

 **See you in the next chapter/story!**

 **(Sorry, but I'm going to have to hold off on the poems for a bit. Thanks for understanding.)**


	12. Subject 015

**So, this is going to take a while. I didn't really plan for the chapter to end that way, but it did. Stories write themselves, I guess. Anyways, Janson will explain why he's there in this chapter.**

 **Hope you all enjoy this. Now, let's jump right into it!**

 _A rumbling echoed off the rocks, and I could see the lights of Bergs in the distance. A girl with long black hair stood in front of me, the sun setting in the distance behind her. She was about to cry, holding it in for as long as she could. "Please don't fight them, Thomas."_ _Though I didn't even know her for very long, I could feel my heart snap in two. I felt..._ betrayed _by Teresa. I thought I could trust her, that we could all trust her. Hate boiled in my gut, ready to explode, but I knew that the others needed to be told. All of the immunes needed to know this betrayel._

 _Blink. The scenes shifted, and I felt a fist dig into my gut. I doubled over, and then I was pushed into line with all of my immune friends. Someone screamed out a name. Ava stepped out from the Berg, and Teresa was there. My vision was stained red. The words I had swimming in my head_ _couldn't even begin to communicate how much I hated Teresa. She broke my heart, she_ betrayed _me. How could I have ever loved this monster?_

 _Soon enough Mary was shot, her shirt soaking up the blood. Vince was screaming, crying and trying to get to her. Just stay down, keep your head down._

 _Blink. I was standing with most of my friends including Newt, Brenda missing, and I held a bomb in my hands. I was going to blow myself sky high just to be free. To add to my confusion, Ava genuinely seemed to care if I died or not, even going as far as to call out my name in an attempt to get me to stop. Why would I stop for that witch? She tried to harvest our blood._

 _Janson was looming over me, a pistol held within his hands. He had it aimed at me, though he hesitated. It was enough for someone to shoot him in the shoulder, allowing me to escape. I was about to_ die _there. That was the real Janson, one that only cared for himself. He was never really the one that I was made to believe. Those memories I had of him were all lies._

 _"Minho!" He was being dragged away, electrocuted and helpless to stop the soldiers. Some other immunes were being taken away, but I cared only for Minho right now. Janson stood inside, giving his signature smirk while holding a cloth to his bullet wound, and Teresa was right by Ava, having never moved from her side._

 _We were all screaming for Minho, but he was gone._

Quietly gasping, I sat upright and instantly regretted it. My muscles felt so sore, and I could feel cracks forming at the sides of my mouth again.

I tested my legs as I walked away from the bed, staggering a bit from the lack of energy. Soon enough, the pain in my legs were gone, but a headache was forming fast and I felt I could sleep the day away. In a moment of panic, my gaze skimmed the room, quickly looking for Janson. He wasn't there. He wasn't waiting for me to wake up. He wasn't waiting for me to leave my friends for him. I let out a sigh, thanking anything I could think of that Janson wasn't too keen on making another appearance. {knock knock knock} My head snapped towards the door, where it began to creak open.

Minho popped his head through the gap between the door and the door frame, giving a lopsided smile when he saw me. "Dang it, I was hoping you'd still be asleep." I raised an eyebrow, openly unimpressed.

"Oh, so I guess you knocked first just to be polite, then?" A blush coated Minho's cheeks, and he muttered something about breakfast being downstairs before he pulled his head out of my room, closing the door behind him. I let out a light laugh, relaxed and almost feeling like this could be a home. It was a happy thought, but not a very realistic one. Sooner or later, I would either leave willingly or be forced to leave.

Janson was always the problem. _He_ was always the one that made it impossible for me to live the life I want. Laughter echoed through the room, causing me to jump out of fear. Janson was right by the curtains that I forgot to close last night. "You're so _adorable_ when you laugh, you know."

Although Janson smiled and sounded rather happy(?), I could see rage simmering under the surface in the way he moved. "You always laugh for them, always smile for them." Already I could tell that this wasn't going to end well. "I've never thought of myself as a violent man," I scoffed at that comment, but said nothing, "but right now, I really want to rip their throats out." _Okay, that just went a_ bit _too far._

Two strides and Janson was right in front of me, scanning my entire body and making me feel like I'm being judged. "Look at what they've done to you. You look like a Crank that's managed to stay sane so far." Those comments hurt even though I shouldn't even care about what Janson says about me. I was offended because Janson was implying that my friends were bad to me when they were the only good people in my life, but Janson kept on going, saying something that, to be honest, really scared me, though I had no clue what he was talking about. "Oh, I forgot to wrap the present I have for you. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll love it, Tommy." He gave me a quick peck on the lips, so sudden that I couldn't even react before Janson was just _gone_. Like he had never existed in the first place.

When Brenda entered the room, worry written all over her face, my heart was beating so loudly I was sure she could hear it. "Thomas, why aren't you downstairs? And why are you just facing the window?" Swallow. Breathe.

"Thomas?" Once I caught my breath again, I turned around to face Brenda. She was dressed in clean clothing that honestly didn't really seem to fit her looks. She wore a baggy white shirt with long sleeves, the hem reaching halfway down to her kneecaps, and her pants were black with grey vertical stripes. Her shirt was clinging to her in certain spots, probably because of her somewhat wet hair, and Brenda had dark circles under her eyes.

"You don't look so good, Brenda." At this she laughed, sounding like a chorus of tiny bells. Wiping away a tear, she hiccuped, her face split in half with a broad grin.

"Like you have any room to talk." Without any warning, Brenda just entered my room and pushed me to the mirror that was on my dresser, allowing me to see my reflection. "Go take a _loooooong_ look at yourself, then look at me and tell me who looks worse."

As soon as I looked into the mirror, I almost had a heart attack. Janson wasn't even exaggerating when he said I appeared to be a Crank still sane. My hair was all over the place, my dark circles were even darker than Brenda's, the clothes I was wearing were practically hanging off of me, and to top it all off I was whiter than a sheet of paper. My lips were also bruised, and last night relived itself in my mind. Disgusted, I looked back at Brenda, whom's appearance was almost angelic compared to mine.

"Guess I do look like klunk." Brenda, having had to learn what the Glader Slang meant early on, shook her head.

"No, you look like a dead bird coated in shi—I mean klunk. Now come on. I bet you're starving by how you look." Hearing Brenda say klunk was similar to the feeling you get when you hear nails on a chalkboard. I cringed at Brenda's use of Glader slang, but I walked out the door with her without a single comment on it.

Right after I stepped out the door, the aromas of breakfast wafted up the stairs, and I was in the dining area before Brenda could even blink. Everything was bright and colorful in the dining room, and the food had been set on one table in the center. Everyone was already sitting down, but there was still a plate left out for me. My heart was bursting with excitement at how delicious it seemed, and I was swarmed with the feeling of delight that my friends remembered to save me food.

Arms waving, my friends were trying to catch my attention in one of the tables at the far corner. Grabbing the plate full of delicious food, I sat down between Minho and Gally, Vince and Jorge right across from me. An empty seat by Jorge was most likely Brenda's seat, who still hasn't made it yet, and had a plate of food in front of it that was gradually cooling down. Sonya and Harriet were chatting to my left, Aris between them and Minho. Chatter casually floated around the room, and it was actually quite calm and comfortable in there.

Nevertheless, I couldn't shake Janson's words from earlier. _"Oh, I forgot to wrap the present I have for you. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll love it, Tommy."_ My teeth clenched in anger at his nickname for me, one that he stole from Newt. Still, I couldn't say that it wouldn't be satisfying to kill him even if he had never said Tommy.

"Thomas!" I felt a hand smack the back of my head. It was light, but it still hurt.

"What was that for?" Brenda scoffed and headed to her seat, not even bothering to explain her actions. Minho was stifling his snickers, and Gally had the gall (Get it?) to laugh right in front of me. Let's just say that Gally wouldn't do it again anytime soon.

During the meal, Brenda didn't speak to me at all, still somewhat pissed at something I must have done to make her upset. Maybe it was because I left her for food? Maybe it was something else I did. Anyways, I didn't ponder it for very long because my mind was still hung up on what Janson might have in store for me.

 _What could Janson_ possibly _give me as a present?_ That's what was going through my mind over and over again as I excused myself and trudged through the hotel(?). Someone ran full speed around the corner, bumping right into me and causing us both to fall. "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to—!"

Wondering what made the obviously female voice stop, I lifted my head and saw Sadia trying to recollect herself. "Thomas?!" Surprised to see me, Sadia openly stared at me with her mouth agape.

"Sadia?" She squealed, and it was so high-pitched that I brought my hands to my ears hoping for even just a smidge of protection.

"You remembered my name!" Sadia hopped up onto her feet and lifted me up, almost pulling my arm out of my socket. "God, I can't—I mean, you—Ahh! Get ahold of yourself!" As if to wake herself up, Sadia slapped her cheeks three times.

"Uhh..." I didn't even know how to respond. This girl was acting so weirdly that I didn't even know if what I said would be what I meant to Sadia. Shaking her head like how a dog shakes off water, Sadia was on the verge of tears.

"Dang it, I'm getting off track! Come on, you have to see Katy! She's actually _awake_!" Sadia's face was shining with joy, radiating happiness like how the sun radiates heat. "Come on, you have to see her!"

"Okay, okay!" Barely a breath to spare, Sadia pulled me along on a magical journey to see Smiley—I mean Katy! Since the hotel I was in was actually really close to the science building/hospital, it was only a 5 minute run to get there. As long as you knew where you were going, that is.

Everyone in the hospital was excitedly whispering, or cheering, or just freaking out. Almost everyone began to talk to me or about me as we ran past, and every time they were either talking about the Cure or just something nice. But it was mostly about the Cure. "Why is everyone all hyped up today?" I asked Sadia, not even bothering to whisper as everyone was going to hear it anyways.

"Don't you get it?! Your blood cured the Crank that had lost its humanity about a few months ago, and it cured Katy! You can stay and cure everyone!" Her face was childishly radiant and joyful, as if she really believed I could stay here forever and cure everyone. As if Janson wasn't itching to take the Cure away and kill everyone else he deemed worthless.

Against my gut instinct, I smiled, saying, "That's great news!" My heart was practically torn to shreds when Sadia began to list off all the fantastic things we could do together.

"And then, we could just sit in the tiny nature preserve we have and talk about whatever with Katy!" Nodding along, I tuned out most of what she said. Saying things that were polite to say at the time it was polite to say it in, I was on autopilot by the time we finally reached Katy's room. Sadia really did all the talking for the both of us.

Mrs. Beldom was standing outside the door, tapping her foot against the ground impatiently. Knees shaking at the sight of Mrs. Beldom's face, I gulped and tried to hide my nervousness. I could tell Mrs. Beldom saw right through my facade, but, to my relief, Mrs. Beldom's face cleared up. "There you are!" She shook my hand before placing her gaze onto Sadia, who shrunk underneath it. "What took you so long to get him?" Stammering and tripping over her own words, Sadia attempted to explain but came up with no solid and reasonable excuse. The hotel was, after all, only a few minutes away when running.

"I—I'm sorry, Diana." I mentally raised an eyebrow. _First name basis. Huh._ "I didn't mean to."

Seeing no reason as to why she should continue this, Mrs. Beldom sighed and shook her head. "Nevermind. Just hurry up and go in." Brightening up considerably, Sadia almost skipped into the room, childish in every move she made.

Before I could enter the room, Mrs Beldom placed a hand on my shoulder. "Thomas, we're going to need to talk about your anemia. Not to mention that we're going to need to find out what exactly is causing your iron deficiency. I need to run some tests on you." Then she let go of my shoulder, opening the door for me with a smile. "But that can come later, of course. You don't seem too sick for now. After you meet up with Katy, however, we are going to talk about what to do about it. Have a wonderful visit!" Nodding, I nervously entered the room. Mrs Beldom really did creep me out a bit, but maybe that was because of how similar she looked to Ava. She is just trying to help.

When I entered the room, I had the image of a screaming Katy on my mind. However, when I entered the room, it was almost the exact opposite of what I expected. Sitting on the bed, Katy was almost completely stiff and still, her eyes glazed over, and she was wearing some kind of weird hat. Doctors asked her questions and constantly was writing something, muttering under their breath and whispering excitedly with the other doctors.

"Excuse me!" Startled, I moved out of the way of a group of doctors pushing a hospital bed with wheels. A small child was laying on the bed, her skin darker than Sadia's and eyeing everything. She tried to get off, but the doctors refused to let her even touch the ground. "Stay right there," one of them ordered, directing it to the tiny child. "We need to run some tests on you."

Almost certainly frightened, the girl obeyed and curled up on the bed, her eyes frantically scanning the room. "Okay, I'm taking the controller off." The male that spoke gripped the sides of the weird hat Katy was wearing, and I noticed all of the doctors tensing, including the small girl. As a precaution, I took a step back.

"One. Two. Three!" The man backed off as soon as the hat was off, and Katy's eyes widened. She began flailing, kicking at everything before scurrying to the back corner, panting as if she ran a marathon.

"Where—Where the fuck am I?!" Curled up in a ball, Katy panted raggedly and was flicking her eyes in every direction she could. Sweat shone on her forehead, and her hair was so straight it resembled a wall of black. Speaking, Katy practically yelled, "I'll kill you! I'm a fucking Crank, for crying out loud!" After her outburst, Katy heaved, vomiting whatever she had eaten earlier onto the floor. Now, her entire body shook as she strained to stay up. "I—I'll kill you," whispered Katy. Just sitting there and shaking violently, Katy appeared to be so weak and fragile to me.

When people began to clean up the mess, Katy screeched and scrambled to get away, managing to kick one of them in the face as she moved. "Calm down, Katy!" At Sadia's voice, Katy seemed to calm down, relaxing her straining muscles.

"Katy." As soon as Mrs. Beldom spoke, I could tell Katy was frightened by her voice. Her muscles tensed, and Katy's eyes were so wide I was sure that they would pop right out with a little push. "No one's going to hurt you," said Mrs. Beldom, her voice calm and soothing.

To me, I hated that voice. It brought up memories of Janson, hallucinations of him—"No! Go away, you sick freak!" Shrieking and scratching, Katy was a Crank again, screaming and trying to get to Mrs. Beldom. "I'll kill you! All you had to do was give me the Cure!" Now she was sobbing, still struggling against the doctors. Flashbacks of Katy lunging at me replayed over and over in my head, and the terror I had felt at the time resurfaced along with the memories. Scared out of my mind, my muscles locked, and I couldn't move, too scared to even breathe at times. As if it wanted to break free, my heart hammered against my chest. I could hardly breathe, and when I did it was fast and short.

Managing to break free from the doctors' hold, Mrs. Beldom cowered as Katy rushed at her. Screams and cries flew through the air as Katy pummeled Mrs. Beldom's arms, and her eyes held a gleam of insanity. When soldiers finally entered the room and dragged Katy away, she shrieked, "Let me at her!! I'LL KILL HER FOR WHAT SHE DID TO ME!!!" My heart beat fast and hard, and my brain had stopped working after what had just happened.

Sadia ran out after Katy, crying and bawling for the soldiers to release Katy. "She did nothing wrong! She had _every right_ to want to kill Mrs. Beldom! _Please_ don't kill her!"

Once the hallways had gone silent, Mrs. Beldom finally and shakily got to her feet, arms bleeding profusely from Katy's attacks. "Diana! Please hang on!" The doctors held onto Mrs. Beldom's arms and moved her along, ordering the girl to stay on the bed.

All of them forgot about me, and when I could speak the door had shut. They locked the door behind them, and when I tried to open the door it wouldn't budge. "Those shuck-faces just locked me in here!" I kicked the door and yelled for anyone to open it, but no one came. There wasn't even a way for me to open it from the inside, only an opening for a key to slide through, for the purpose of keeping the patients locked inside. Heaving, I counted to ten and attempted to calm down. _There's no need to panic. Everything's alright._

"Mister?" Remembering the little girl, I turned to see her still curled up in a ball, her eyes impossibly wide. "Are they...?" She dragged her left index finger across her throat, and I gulped at the implications. Tiny girls shouldn't know what that means, they should be talking and having fun with other children.

I tried to smile, hoping it didn't turn out to be a grimace. "Of course not! Katy will be fine, they'll just give her some meds and she'll be good to go!" Unfortunately, the girl was more skeptical and wasn't very convinced. Actually, she seemed to be almost a bit more frightened.

"They're going to kill her!" Something seemed to snap inside of the child, for she began to laugh, clawing at her face and laughing all the while. "Of course they would! And they'll kill me, too!" At that, she laughed harder.

The girl hopped off the bed and, with no explanation as to why, began to drag herself across the floor in a random direction. "I have to leave, or they'll kill me!" the tiny girl screamed, smiling all the while, and making it to the other side of the room. Then her head whipped around to me, creeping me out, and said, "You! You should come with me!"

"What? No, I think I'm fine." The child wasn't listening and began to cackle, giving off the impression of a crazy old witch. She creeped up to me on all fours, her head tilting almost mechanically to one side as she sniffed the air. "Seriously, I really don't want to leave."

"They'll kill you, though. Drown you like that child in the corner." Whipping my head in every direction, I scanned the entire room for any other children possibly hiding, and the girl laughed at my reaction. "Not these corners! The _other_ corner!"

Warnings having been forgotten, the itty bitty girl latched onto my arm and pulled me away from the door with surprising strength. She pulled away a tile from the wall opposite the door to reveal a vent, hidden from everyone else's sight. "Well, in you go!" the now insane child giggled, and she lightly pushed me towards the vent. "Otherwise you'll never see the light of day again!"

"What?!" Without any warning, the girl pushed me into the vent, and there was barely enough room for me to move forward. I cried out in pain as I landed not so gracefully on my left arm, wincing whenever I moved it.

"Hurry up and move! You're holding up the line!" Another giggle crept out of the girl's throat, and that was enough for me to move despite the pain gnawing away at my arm.

Soon enough, the vent became spacious enough for me and the small child to be right next to each other comfortably. "So, what do they call you? The scientists?" The question got me a bit off guard. I mean, would you expect that to come out of a girl that was jacked and some sort of psycho?

"Thomas."

"That's a weird number," the girl giggled.

"What's your name, then?"

The child eyed me weirdly. "My name? What's a name?" How could this child not know what a _name_ was?

"It's what you are called by everyone else. For instance, my name is Thomas, and everyone calls me Thomas or Tommy." Her face brightened a bit in understanding, but she still didn't seem to get something.

"Why do they call you Tommy when your... _name_ is Thomas?" She grinned at me, obviously pleased that she's using a new word, and I smile back, happy that she's not as creepy anymore.

"Tommy is a nickname. Don't worry, you don't need to know about that yet." Explaining this to a small child wasn't clearing up her confusion, but we most likely had no time to sit around and talk. "Anyways, we should get moving." The small child didn't complain, and we were moving through the vents once more.

"...15," she whispered, so softly that I wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't so quiet in the vent. "They called me Subject 015, but I like 15 better." Not exactly knowing how to respond, I kept quiet, letting the silence fill up the gap between the two of us. _Getting attached to someone else is a very bad idea. Just gives Janson more of a leverage._

A miniature hand pulled on my sleeve, getting me to stop. "There they are." A wide, creepy grin spread out on her face, and a weird clicking noise sounded through the vent. There was an opening in the vent, covered by a grate (obviously), and I could see Diana walking down the hallway, limping. "Blood is so pretty when it isn't her blood."

That was right up there on the creepy sentence list, next to Janson saying, "I love you." The most creepiest things I've ever heard, and it's from a man that doesn't understand what private boundaries are and a small child that has "lost her marbles" as some would say. This just goes to show what kind of people I surround myself with. "Let's coat these walls in her blood, to make it not clean or pretty." In the small girl's eyes, determination shone.

"I..." I couldn't respond, for how could I? Without knowing 15's trigger words, I'm left to blindly stumble around hoping I don't step into a bear trap.

Her hand, small compared to mine, wrapped around my wrist as much as it could, and 15 whispered excitedly, "It'll be so much fun! I could show you how to kill someone to thank you! Or, perhaps I could show you something more..." 15 left off, shutting up as a soldier walked right underneath us. If he had looked up, the soldier might have seen our eyes reflecting the light in the vent.

"These idiots must be really stupid! They haven't even realized we left that room! Well, you weren't even supposed to be locked in there, so I guess you're still off the hook..." Snickers echoed through the vent as we watched the unsuspecting doctors and soldiers roaming about the halls, with some civilians being guided down the hallways. As one of the civilians was dragged away screaming, 15's face darkened. "Poor Lucy...All she wanted was to be cured, just like the rest of us..." 15 fell silent, and I never said anything about it, scared to even think about how 15 might react.

Then 15's head perked up, her eyes widening a bit. Not in fright, but rather in joy. "They finally figured it out!" 15 squealed, watching the doctors scurrying about a bit faster. "They're like rats in a maze, searching for the piece of cheese that's hanging by a string right above their heads." Humming a tune I've never heard of, 15 appeared as if she could watch the people below all day long. However, she proved me wrong, for she began to crawl forward again with a purpose. "Come on! Let's go and see sunshine!" The way 15 said that had my heart breaking out of sympathy, for it sounded like 15 had been locked up for such a long time that she didn't even remember what sunshine was. Something inside, however, told me that 15 would not take sympathy well at all.

We were crawling forward for a bit, comfy silence hanging between the two of us like a veil. At least, for 15. Not so much for me. My muscles were constantly tensed, waiting for 15 to do something drastic and crazy; though my muscles weren't fully recovered, I had to be prepared for anything.

We both hopped out into the weapons closet, with me hopping out first and then catching 15 once she jumped without showing how difficult it was not to fall over whne catching her. Without even saying a word, 15's head snapped in the direction of the door, and she walked over to it. "You can't hide from me like that," she cooed, and the door creaked ominously as 15 opened the door. Right behind the door was a woman, her hand lowered to turn the doorknob.

Surprised that the door opened on its own, she had no chance against 15. Within the blink of an eye, the soldier's head had been ripped off. "Aww, that wasn't very satisfying..." 15 pouted, acting like she had been denied candy. Throwing the head to the ground, 15 spat on the head and continued down the corridor with a walk that was on the fence on whether to be predatorial or creepy.

"5, they're gone! Come on out!" 15 yelled down the corridor, not even thinking about how the soldiers have ears, too. "5?"

"Over here..." A door at the end of the hallway, to my left, creaked open, and I could see someone's eye staring right at us. "Hurry..."

Catching up to 15, who was already at the end of the corridor, I pushed the door open a bit. The door groaned as it gradually opened. A young boy with pale white skin covered in bruises, and whom's blond bangs casted shadows over their big brown eyes, stood alone in the room, backing up a bit when he saw me. To my surprise, the boy shook with obvious fear, yet he didn't run away or hide. He just thrusted his chin up and glared at me.

The door sluggishly closed, and the only light shining were the lit candles on the floor and bed. The bed had been pushed to the center of the room, freeing up the corners. The lighting and position of the bed really creeped me out, but I didn't comment. Fear of how the kids would respond kept my mouth shut, especially after the scene of the soldier's head being ripped off replayed once more in my head.

"9, there you are! Where's 5? I need to have a chat with his sack!" 15 grinned, her mouth and face twitching every few seconds.

"Umm...5 told me to tell you that he wasn't... _feeling_ rather well today..." Contradicting his stubbornness from earlier, his voice was soft and shy, and he never looked 15 in the eye. "He's...doing something with 4 right now..."

Out of nowhere, 15 froze, her face perpetually stuck in her crazy grin expression. "5 is with 4...?" A laugh bubbled up her throat, and then 15 cackled once more, howling with her insanity. "Of course he's with 4! Where else would that no-good poopy face be?!"

9 shuffled his feet, uncomfortable and glancing at me for some reason. I was just as uncomfortable as 9, and just as clueless. Then 15's laughter abruptly cut off, her head tilting to one side. "Uh oh..." whispered 9, knowing what was happening.

Left in the dark, I didn't know what was happening when both children ran to a corner and sat down on the floor, facing the corners and plugging their ears. "1 is coming, yes he is. Run to the corner and he will miss," the children sang, over and over again while plugging their ears. "He was drowned for taking a buck. Now we will drown if we don't duck."

Creeped out, I wanted to run to the door. While I decided whether or not to, the sound of sloshing water met my ears. The children stopped singing, and all I could hear was water hitting stone walls. Following the children's song, I ran to one of the corners to the left of the door and crouched, plugging my ears and squeezing my eyes shut.

There was complete silence for a minute, and I was hoping that the worst had come to passed.

As I lifted my head, the door began to groan as it reluctantly opened.

 **And...that's it. Sorry that this was thrown to you out of the blue, I just wanted to write a creepy story instead of just having the normal Thomas-escapes-Janson-only-to-be-chased-and-get-captured-again story, you know, to add to it. I don't like those kinds of stories, and I want to add a plot and get Thomas to realise that maybe, _maybe_ he's needed more than he thought. Get into contact with people he's cured and haven't cured.**

 **Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter. Tell me if you didn't, and if you don't say anything that's okay, too.**

 **See you all in the next chapter/story!**


	13. Blood, Guts, and Chocolate Cake

**So, the last chapter was a bit...all over the place. And I'll try to tie up all the loose ends from the entire story in new chapters, but this chapter isn't going to answer a lot of the questions. Sorry about that.**

 **But, it may turn out to be completely different than what I expected. I just type and let the story fly on by. I have the plot, and just let my fingers type until I have a very long chapter that still somewhat fits the storyline I have (somewhat) devoloped.**

 **Nur123: I think this is a bit unfair, but I wanted to say thank you. You were really nice and always wanted more, and, not wanting to disappoint you, I'm making these chapters as fast as I can. Hope you like them all! And don't worry, I'm making sure you'll understand in the near future. Just not in this chapter.**

 **To everyone else, thank you all for being so nice and supportive. It really helps me stay focused on my story instead of just leaving it here to rot. And yes, I will make it so everyone understands what is happening. So thank you all for reading, and I hope you'll continue to read this (though it is utter crap).**

 **Anyways, on with the story!**

Ducking once more, I couldn't breathe as the door creaked open. Water spread across the floor, soaking through my worn sneakers and touching my skin with its icy fingers. I plugged my ears once more and held my breath, waiting for the water to recede. The fear was so powerful, every part of me was shaking, shivering at the water filling up the room.

The candles began to go out, one by one, until all that was left were the candles resting on the bed. Darkness crept into the corners, and I expected hands to reach out and grab me at any second, for Janson to be there. Rather quickly, I pushed that thought down.

Aside from the water gradually rising, nothing else was happening. Everything else was still as far as I could see. The silence from plugging my ears was unbearable, so maybe I could unplug them for just a bit...

Right before I could, though, water slammed into the corner inches above my head. Shocked out of my skin, I couldn't even scream because of how terrified I was. The blast was enough to crack the wall, which was solid concrete. Imagining my head as that wall was rather easy to do, and it just feaked the klunk out of me even more.

Again, the water slammed into the wall, missing my shoulder by mere inches. My heart leapt to my throat, forcing me to keep quiet. Shutting my eyes, I took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, calming down against the desire to scream and run for it. Then, the voice of a small boy began to sing. "It's raaaaaining...It's poooouring...The ooold man is snoooring...He bumped his heeeead on his beeed, and he didn't wake up in the mooooorning..." Water rammed into the floor, the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but the corners.

Everything shook, and sometimes a piece of the ceiling would fall to the floor, making a splash as it fell into the water. The water level was now right above my stomach, and everything underneath my stomach was soaked in water. Frosty water stung my skin, the pain similar to the sharp prick of a needle. It was so cold that if I opened my eyes, I could see my own breath. That is, if I opened my eyes in the first place.

At first, I didn't even notice that the water had stopped until it began to recede. Even after the water level lowered, heat was still leaving me rapidly. I sneezed, and the sound of it echoed through the room. Lifting my head and turning around, I wished that all of the candles had gone out, for standing in the doorway, a small child met my eyes. Rather, he would have if he had any eyes left.

Dark holes glared at me where the eyes should have been, the skin was falling right off the poor child, its teeth hid behind nothing, for its lips were gone, and its entire body was pale white or, with its hands and feet, a shade of blue. Its hair had fallen out, along with pieces of the scalp, and the nails were long gone as well. A chunk of its hand, the entire thumb and some of the palm, fell onto the floor and created a small thump as it did so. However, the child didn't notice and was facing me for only a few more seconds before it walked out the door. Bile rose up in my throat, and I only had a few seconds after the walking corpse had left to prepare myself before I threw up on the dry concrete floor.

Glancing back up, I could still see the blue thumb laying on the floor, the skin dried and cracked severely. Pieces of the flesh were missing, and the edges of those holes were black and smelled horribly like rotten fish and spoiled eggs. I gagged, revolted and queazy.

Out of the blue, a hand suddenly placed itself on my shoulder, yet I didn't even bat an eye at it, for the thumb laying on the floor disgusted me enough that I forgot how to be scared for the moment. Instead, I merely lifted my head up to see 9 standing over me, his hand comfortingly resting on my shoulder. "That was 1. He's the one that keeps this place in order," the kid explained, as if that would help my stomach stop rolling. "Yes, he drowned, but death won't stop him from running this place."

"What do you mean 'this place?'" 15 was relighting the candles with a match, dancing around the pieces of the ceiling on the floor. How she managed to keep the match dry was beyond me. Maybe it was lying on the bed for times like these. "Aren't we still in...?"

I just realized that I didn't even know what the building was called. In a rocky boat and a horrible situation, I had no clue which direction to go, what the rules were in this place, or even just what the name of this place was. These tiny children were the only ones that could help me right now, and pissing them off wouldn't ever be a good idea.

When all the candles were relit, 9 turned back to me and said, "Oh, we still are in this god-forsaken building, all right." Contempt was written all over 9's face, and his nose was scrunched up in distaste. "But this is _our_ territory. 1 rules these parts, not the scientists."

His dark bruises contrasted his pale skin, catching my attention. "So, how'd you get all those bruises?" I asked, trying not to seem nosy and all up in others' business.

9 looked away, and his expression was one of...embarrassment? "It was from trying to sneak into the scientists' territory...When you become one of us, you have to either escape or be forced to lose more of yourself. 1 helped me escape before he was drowned, so I..." 9 blinked rapidly, holding back tears. "Anyways...when you live here, there isn't any food waiting around on a silver platter before _that_...So we had to go into the scientists' territory and not get caught... That was why you were with 15 in the first place, because she got caught right before _that_ happened..." After a short period of silence, about a few seconds, 15 was back from examining the thumb, skipping around my vomit and the rubble.

"9, where is 5? I need to have a chat with his sack and 4," said 15, her eye twitching when she mentioned 4.

Uncomfortable, 9 shuffled his feet before responding. "He, uhh... He's in the... recreation room?" Having not known him for very long, I couldn't know whether 9 was uncertain or whether he was just really shy when 15 demanded answers.

Either way, 15 took it rather well. At least, I think so. "Great! Lead the way!" And that was how 9 joined us, albeit unwillingly.

"Hey, can I get one of the, um, weapons we saw earlier?" Without waiting for an answer, I turned around and left the room. 15 didn't call out for me, and neither did 9, so I wasn't feeling too bad about leaving them. They probably wouldn't even notice that I was gone if I hadn't told them that I was grabbing some guns.

The first thing I noticed was the absence of the corpse. That soldier should have been lying there, decapitated, but the floor and walls were sparkly clean without even the slightest hint that there ever was a body. Second thing was that the door was open, and two guns, one electric gun and one pistol, were laying on the floor where the corpse had been. There was no note, and nothing to suggest that it was a gift for me, or someone else. When I picked it up, I noticed a piece of pearly white skin stuck to the side of both guns and shuddered, remembering the shambling corpse walking out of the room. I decided against the electric gun, for it was really heavy and I already was a bit tired, so I took only the pistol with me before returning back to 15 and 9.

I never mentioned it to 15 or 9, but I did ask them, "What happens if you look at 1?" They gave each other a look and burst out giggling like school girls over some crush, and they "reassured" me that as long as I never ever looked at 1, I was fine.

"We've seen people who've looked at 1. Their heads were crushed, and their blood would be used to write out the same message over and over again. 'Don't be rude and judge others by their looks. It really hurts, especially if they try to help you.' It was weird, but we learned pretty quick that if you look at 1, you're sure to die, so don't look at him." Then 15 patted me on the shoulder and grinned before picking up a candle and a few matches from the match box resting on the bed.

When 15 touched my clothes after she finished grabbing things, she gasped in surprise, shocked at the freezing temperature. "Thomas, you're so cold! Better get you dry and out as fast as we can; you don't know what kind of diseases lurk through these hallways." After that, 15 never strayed from my side as we walked through the hallways, and she tried her best to keep me warm. She wasn't as efficient as a heater, but her caring self had me feeling a bit warmer than before.

Other than that, I now know that 9 was really terrified of almost everything, for he was always jumping at any noise we made, and he was constantly asking questions in whispers. "What if 1 comes back and there are no corners? What if one of the soldiers come around the corner? What if 1 unexpectedly comes around the corner and we all look at him?"

Never tiring of 9's questions, 15 always responded to his questions. "Well, we'll find a room and hide in the corners. I'll kill them, since this is _our_ territory. He won't surprise us, since we'll hear the water moving, and if we, all of a sudden, lose our hearing, we're all dead. And why are you whispering?"

Seeing 9 and 15 talking back and forth, with 9 being scared of almost everything, was entertaining, in a way. But I noticed that something was _off_ with 9. He was so stubborn and confident in the room, but out here he was always scared and jumping at any noise, contrasting his previous behavior. Maybe it was because he was in his room, and because he's out here, he's terrified. Or maybe not.

15 gently stuffed the rotting thumb into one of the pockets on the sides of her dress, and when I, queazy and disgusted, asked her why, she merely stated, "Oh, it's a present for Beldom. I want to see how she reacts to seeing 1's thumb!" Freaking me out with her grin, I never asked why these kids all hated Mrs. Beldom out of the fear that I wouldn't like the answer. Maybe I'm similar to 9, in the way that he's scared enough to ask questions but always hating the answers 15 gives him.

We followed 15, holding an unlit candle, until the lights flickered a bit. Holding our breaths, we stopped and waited until the lights stopped flickering and returned to normal. "5 usually does that, though I wouldn't be surprised if it was Beldom doing that," 15 huffed, strutting forward once more. It was like that for a while, before—

"I think I heard water! It's 1!" screamed 9, bolting for the nearest room. 15 paused and listened, closing her eyes and breathing much more quietly. Then 15's eyes widened with glee.

"It's not 1, you silly! It's the tap water running! And where there's a tap running..." 9 peeked out from behind the door, with his face showing his disbelief.

"There's 4?" 15 nodded, her face distorting into one of madness. In the light, with her hair framing her face and casting shadows over her eyes, she resembled a Crank having gone off the high end.

"5... 4... Come on ooooout..." Her lilting voice spread through the hallways, and beneath the sound of her voice, I could hear the aforementioned water running.

Suddenly, 15 burst through one of the doors to our right, screeching and howling in victory. "I found you, 4!" Another screech, this one lower-pitched and filled with fear, found its way to my ears. "God, stop crying! You'll attract 1 with how loud you're screaming."

Against my instincts, I stepped into the room, looking around the room. There were a lot of...stuff hanging off of the walls, and there were a lot of wooden boards with pieces of plastic in different colors and shapes on them, and the size of the room would have impressed me if I was looking around. But those didn't catch my eye. What caught my eye was the girl 15 was standing over, her sharp nails pointing right at the much larger girl's neck.

The girl who must be 4 had bright red hair, and was probably much closer to my age than 15. Green eyes stared up at 15, frightened by what 15 would do to her, and her olive skin shone with perspiration. There were only one or two bruises on her skin, and those were already almost healed, faded to the point to where there was only a faint purple outline. She panted, catching her breath from screaming, but 15 wasn't getting off. Instead, her hand rose a bit, like how it did before she sliced off the soldier's head.

"15!" Her hand froze, and it seemed like 15 just now noticed my presence. Not wishing to see another decapitated corpse, I hesitantly gripped 15's wrist in my hands, knowing that I was balancing on a very thin line. "Don't...waste your nails on her. Don't you want to keep your nails long and sharp for Mrs. Beldom?"

That seemed to do the trick. 15 reluctantly climbed off of 4, who brushed off her clothes and gratefully smiled at me like she wasn't about to die moments earlier. "Hmph! I only let you live because I want to save these nails for Beldom! I don't want to stain pretty blood with Beldom's blood!" A look of revulsion showed on 15's face before it was replaced with her signature crazed expression.

I rolled my eyes at how childish 15 was being right now before reminding myself that 15 was a child, one that shouldn't even be in this situation right now and flinched at the last sentence 15 had said, still not used to her bouts of insanity. "So, you're Thomas?" 4 beamed at me, showing off her straight, somewhat clean teeth. "You'd be cute if you didn't look like shit," 4 says with a wink, and heat rushes to my cheeks at her statement, not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.

15 huffs and glares at 4, clearly despising 4 for something. 9, on the other hand, is indifferent and simply grumbles, "We have to find 5, not stand around flirting with each other..." Then he muttered something under his breath, and the only word I caught was "alone."

To my surprise, 15 ran up to my side and grabbed my hand, having no reason to even run to me. "We need to find 5, so Thomas doesn't get sick, and I can eat his eyes for lunch! Wait, is it even noon yet?" 4, with a shrug directed to me, shook her head as a response. I could taste the bile in my throat when 15 spoke, and I hoped that this wasn't a very common thing to say for her.

Pouting, 15 crossed her arms again and said, "Well, then I'll have brunch! Ooh, maybe I could try eating his sack! That thing bouncing around always annoyed me...What do you want for brunch, _Thomas_?" The way 15 said my name gave me the shivers, and it dawned on me at how _normal_ this was for everyone here to say.

"I already ate breakfast. I don't think I need anything else to eat." At this, 15 frowned in concern.

"But you threw up on the floor earlier, so your stomach must be empty," 15 pointed out, and my stomach betrayed me by growling in hunger. Smiling in victory, 15 dragged me, 9, and somehow managed to also drag 4 along to the kitchen. "Let's see what they gave us to eat today before we hunt 5! Hope it isn't something _nasty_ , or else _that_ will happen again."

I wanted to ask what had happened, but 4 violently shook her head and mouthed, "No," and I kept my mouth shut. My stomach grumbled once more, and I could feel the familiar sensation of my stomach eating away at me from the inside. Hunger clawed at my insides, but it was still weak and small. Maybe it would even go away after I see what they eat. Crossing my fingers behind my back, I enter the kitchen with high—more like low—expectations for the food, hoping it wouldn't even come close to meeting them.

Yet, to my disbelief, 15 brings back food that blows my mind. The aroma already had my mouth salivating, and I was forced to swallow my saliva, so I wouldn't drool all over the floor. The sight of the food had my stomach growling and hissing for it. It looked as good as, if not better than, the food I had for breakfast earlier today. Not only that, the entire room was way warmer than the other rooms and hallways, and I sighed as warmth finally reentered my body.

"Woah! This looks _amazing_!" 9 exclaims, his face brightening up for the first time since I met him. 15 thanked him for his compliment with an airy giggle, placing a hot plate of food right in front of 9, her seat, and me before hesitating. Finally, 15 huffed and gave 4 her food, and she _accidentally_ spilled a bit of bacon juice on 4's clothing.

"Ugh! 15!" Leaving 4 to her mess, 15 giggled and leapt right out of 4's reach, careful to keep quite a distance between her and 4. Amused, 15 danced about with a klunk-eating grin on her face, and 4 smiled right back.

Suddenly, 4 leapt for 15, and, yelping, 15 dove to one of the sides, barely avoiding one of 4's long arms. 4 screeched and chased after her, and 15 screamed right back. It was a shrieking match, which 15 most definitely won, and 4 kept diving for 15, intent on possibly killing 15. Somehow more experienced, 15 jumped and rolled out of the way, sometimes leaping onto the ceiling and sticking her nails into it, shrieking at 4 in a parody of 4's rage-filled screams. Watching in apprehension, it was almost mesmerizing how 15 practically danced around 4, infuriating her further. Tired and fatigued, 4 sat back down in defeat, and 15 skipped over to her seat between me and 9, happily humming to herself. Until a pea from 4's plate flew through the air and hit 15 right in the eye. "Owie!" Snickering, 4 smirked as she had finally gotten her revenge on 15.

In the beginning, I just sat there, remembering all the gross things 15 had said and losing my appetite because of it. But then, my stomach complained non stop, and I needed energy for later, so I began to eat. True to the smell and looks, the food was just as good as what I had eaten earlier, and my stomach settled down, happy to have food.

The chocolate cake helped convince me.

It was nice to be warm, but my clothes still stuck to me in places that were really uncomfortable. My clothes were still dripping wet. Completely soaked below my chest. It was...irritating, to say the least.

Immediately after devouring her meal, 15 brainstormed as she tore off pieces of her plastic plate and chewed thoughtfully on them. During the end of my meal, I could hear 15 mumbling about tearing up his sack...whatever that means. I stuffed my spoon full of chocolate cake into my mouth when 15 abruptly stopped mumbling.

"Did you hear that?" All at once, everyone lifted their heads to stare at 15, and even 9 didn't know what it was. She wordlessly got out of her chair, every noise that she made somehow muted in a strange way. Pacing about the room, she came to a stop right next to a vent and looked directly up.

First anger, then disgust, and, at last, fear. Those were the expressions 15 had before all hell broke loose.

Something jumped onto 15 from the vent so fast none of us had any chance to react. 15 screeched as she fended for herself, swinging her arms to slash at the humanoid creature. It screeched and roared, snapping its jaws at her. If I had taken a longer look, I would have been able to identify its strong spots and could possibly even find the weak spots.

But I could only think about one thing: 15. I _had_ to save her, for she was the only friend that I had right now. So I did the first thing that came to mind; I charged at the creature.

 _Maybe I_ should _have paid attention to the..._ thing _._ That was what I thought as I, with only luck on my side, managed to avoid becoming swiss cheese. The creature had no time to react other than slice, so it took speed over aim, which saved me from its claws. But then we crashed onto the floor, and there the creature had the upper hand of skill and speed. My surprise attack was merely to shock the creature, but it recovered swiftly and shrugged me off without any effort. Falling to the floor, I had no chance of escaping those claws. On my own.

Just as rapidly as the creature did, 15 got back up and was able to fight the creature more easily now that the creature didn't have surprise on its side. Under no restraints, 15 leaped from wall to wall, slicing at the creature as she moved. While 15 distracted the creature, I pulled out my pistol, intent on harming it. However, between the lights flickering like crazy and both the creature and 15 moving around wildly, I couldn't aim at all. 15 was doing fine on her own, spilling its blood all over the food and the walls. By now the creature was _pissed_.

So pissed, in fact, that it decided to attack me instead of 15. 15, the agile girl that she is, managed to steer the arm away enough so that my entire left arm wasn't torn to shreds, but three long claws sliced through my muscles like ribbons. I could feel my throat almost tearing apart as I screamed, the pain like no other. Not even like one of those electric gun shots. Of course, I've hardly had to experience the pain, but _still_!

The pain was unbearable. Everything seemed to stop as I howled in agony, clutching my profusely bleeding arm to my chest. My white shirt was now stained red, and the blood trickled down to soak my pants even more, but that didn't matter. The all-consuming pain was the main focus of my attention.

Purring reached my ears, but I didn't care for that. What I couldn't bear was my arm, burning and tormenting me. A touch had my arm exploding with spasms, and I couldn't even scream anymore. I had lost my voice from the cries of pain. Nothing made sense, but I could hear something yelping as another thing pushed them all away.

Next thing I know, I'm on a bed of some kind, and the lights are whooshing over my head as they move. _Wait, that's not right. Lights can't move._ With a sense of deja vu, it hit me that the lights above weren't moving. It was me.

Tears streaking down my cheeks, I clutched my arm and silently wept from the throbbing of my arm. It hurt _so badly_ , and I couldn't even move it without opening my mouth to scream with no noise. Roars and howls chased me through the white hallways, and I was back with Janson, carrying me through the halls to meet my friends, and then Minho pushing the bed as we ran from WCKD.

But there was no time to go back down memory lane. Actually, there was no memory lane anymore. There was only me and the pain. Barely registering the faint "Okay, I'm going to lift you now," in my ear, the bed stopped, and the thunders behind me grew louder and louder. I couldn't really concentrate on anything other than the pain. My head felt so light that everything spun.

Then, I could feel someone trying to lift me up, and my arm burst into bright, hot flames of aches and burns. My body couldn't take the pain anymore, and I fainted from the pain.

...Well, this sucks.

 **Hello! I know this was a bit...confusing, but I will explain most of this in the next chapter. If I have any room for it while progressing with the plot. Please be patient. Also, sorry for leaving another cliffhanger. I couldn't help myself!**

 **Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this! See you in the next chapter/story!**


	14. Escape The Pot, Land In The Fire

**So, hello. Thanks for reading this. I really appreciate it, even if it's just a few people reading. It still makes me feel happy knowing that somewhere, someone is enjoying what I am making for them. Well, for me _and_ them.**

 **U: I don't really know what to say, but I did try to make Janson really creepy. That's just how I've always seen him from the very first time since I ever saw Janson's face. And that was _before_ I knew that the actor had acted Little Finger, which was a bad guy, and _before_ I ever read any of the books. So, Janson was supposed to be creepy, and I'm glad I managed to pull that off to you. (This was a little late, I'm sorry.)**

 **Nur123: Trust me, it will all become at least a little bit clearer. Just hold out for a bit.**

 **And for the people that I don't know about, thank you for even making it this far into the story. It was supposed to be just Janson torturing Thomas without actually doing anything, but then it turned into an elaborate plot that somehow is working out a bit. Just need to work on a few of the details from earlier, and we're all set.**

 **If I have any spelling errors, it's because I have no one but myself to proof-read this, and then when I publish it I'm already on the next chapter. So, I most likely won't fix them. Sorry.**

 **Don't worry, I'll try to check it as often as I can while writing. There might even be an error in my note. But just understand that I am one person, and my friend just skims through it. They don't even try to check it for any minor spelling details. So, I most likely won't know about it.**

 **Wow. I didn't even mean to make the note that long. It just...became like that.**

 **Anyways, onto the story!**

I could feel that my eyes were open, but there was no light at all, so it was pitch black where I was. After a few moments of darkness, scratches echoed off the walls, and then a small flame lit up, chasing the shadows away a bit. It wasn't much, but then the flame began to eat away at a candle, and it was just a bit brighter. Bright enough for me to recognize 15 holding up the lit candle.

"Here." She hands me the burning candle and the box of matches, and I take them, nodding once and giving a small smile. Regretting that action when my world decided to soin and my head felt like it had disconnected from the rest of me. 15 returned it with a grimace, but she tried, and that's all that matters. "I'll be gone for a bit, but don't even _think_ about leaving. It won't take me long, but if you hear any scratching sounds or just _anything_ other than you, blow out the candle and HIDE."

Her face was cast into shadows by the flickering glow of the flame, and it was terrifying. I nodded again, forgetting the discomfort from seconds earlier, and I could swear that 15 looked relieved when I did so. "Good. And don't trust anyone other than me, okay?" And with that, 15 disappeared into the darkness.

A grate slide across the floor, and I could hear it locking into place. The pain in my arm has dropped to a dull throb, but if I move it too fast, it feels like someone poured acid on it. Along with the pain, I felt really tired. So I had to do everything slowly, and gradually, I built a mental map of the room that I was in. It was small, big enough for just a child's bed to take up most of the room. But if I moved my hand alongside the wall, I could find a crevice that I could squeeze into, hidden among the darkness.

Every now and then, I would hear a moan breaking the heavy silence, or scratching noises on the other side of the walls. Whenever that happened, I blew out the candle and squeezed into the crevice, lightly breathing and trying my best to keep quiet. One time, I could hear something enter the room, but after a few sniffs, they left, and I could let out a sigh of relief. But other than that, it was completely silent. So silent that I could hear the ringing in my ears, and then it felt like the room was shrinking, about to crush me any second.

I wasn't claustrophobic. You couldn't be, if you wanted to survive. But this room was still a bit suffocating, especially when you only have one candle that poorly lights up the room. Every shadow could be Janson, lurking in the darkness and waiting for me to relax before he—

"Boo!" Yelping, the candle almost goes out when I flail. 15 hangs upside-down from the ceiling, laughing at my spooked self. "Dang, you're so easy to scare. I told you I wouldn't take long, didn't I?"

She gently set herself onto the floor, her nails gleaming as the light of the flame reflected off of its smooth surface. As she settles in, her claws a constant reminder of how dangerous 15 is, my mind begins to wander. It seems like now would be a good place to ask questions, for later we could be running for our lives or doing something else that would prevent me from actually getting answers.

"Hey, 15?" My voice was raspy and raw, and my throat still hurt after the screams I had let out earlier. Her eyes met mine, and in the dim lighting I could imagine Janson hovering over her, a hand on her shoulder in a threatening manner. Choosing the most basic question, I asked, "What is this place?"

15 examines her nails, and she refused to meet my eyes. Softly, 15 said, "This is where all of the subjects that managed to run away hang out. 1 protects us, as long as we don't look at him, and he keeps this place clean. Of course, not all of us have some of our sanity left, so that's why you need to keep a low profile."

Our eyes lock on once more, and I swallowed out of fear. This question would either get me killed, or give me answers. "So, you're a subject. A subject of what, exactly?"

In the dim light, 15's face was absolutely murderous. Curling up a bit, I withdrew from 15, scared by her face. Her hands curled into fists, and she breathed heavily, as if she was trying to keep herself from screaming at me. Eyes glowing in the light, she was glaring at me, and I ducked my head, not wanting to see her nails flash as they slice through my head.

But she never came close to murdering me. Instead, I could hear 15 sighing deeply, and a droplet hitting the hard floor echoed through the room. "They were experimenting on us. Trying to find a cure, they would take the volunteering Immunes' enzymes and force our body to make the enzyme, hoping it would at least give us a chance at being Immune to the Flare." Then she took in a shuddery breath, and another droplet splattered onto the floor.

"They...It didn't...The scientists only caused us to go insane, and I was the fifteenth subject that they had. 1 was the first to escape, the first to help others escape, and the first to be killed." Cracking every so often, her voice wavered and sounded as fragile as china.

Her face hardened, and 15 drew in a breath or air, puffing her chest up in an attempt to bottle up her feelings once more. "Now, we live here, claiming this part of the building as our own and killing anyone that so much as breaths over the invisible border line." Here was when she paused, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Now that I think about it, you seem...different than the others. You were already an Immune, but when your blood was spilled..." 15 shuddered violently, enough that I could see her entire body vibrate even in this dim lighting. "It was horrifying," she finally concluded.

Curiosity peaking, I couldn't hold in the question. "Why was it horrifying? What happened?" An eyebrow was raised.

"You _seriously_ want to know?" Pausing briefly, I nodded in response. Shrugging her shoulders, 15 collected her thoughts. "Okay, fine. Here's what I saw."

I waited patiently, holding my breath and allowing the silence to stretch on before 15 continued. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, reminding me of Brenda, and then she said, "When 5 slashed your arm—."

"Hold up! _That thing_ was 5?!" My mouth was agape, hanging open in bewilderment. "The person that we were trying to find this entire time?!"

"Shush!" She clapped a hand over my mouth and listened, her muscles tense, and the air around us seemed to thicken. There was nothing I could hear, nothing at—

 _Wait!_ There was _something_ outside the room, slithering along metal. Probably the interior of the vent. "Duck!" She didn't need to tell me twice. I grabbed the matches, extinguished the candle, and hid from view under the bed, having no time to run for the crevice. 15 huddled next to me under the bed, her hand forcing my head down further. No arguements from me, for there was a loud *BANG* from where the grate was. The grate flew right at the bed and hit the wooden posts, getting the hairs at the base of my neck to stand straight up.

Something slithered along the floor, but I couldn't even see my hands, so I had no idea what was making the noise. 15's hand was covering my mouth, keeping my breaths quiet, and then the thing stopped moving. Silence.

A minute passes. Nothing.

Two minutes. Nothing again.

Three minutes. One tap against the wall.

 _Six minutes._ It took whatever was out there _six minutes_ before it finally gave up and slithered along the ground once more, sliding into the vent where it had come from.

Usually, I would have pulled myself out from underneath the bed and start booking it out of there. However, this was something I never had to experience before, hiding in complete darkness with something intelligent hunting you down. And I would quickly run out of stamina trying to run away. So we waited.

Two minutes passed before the slithering thing returned. But now it didn't sound like a snake sliding across the ground. It sounded like a human being dragging their bare belly across the concrete, desperate for something, anything, to eat. That thought sent shivers down my spine, and I wished that I could pull out the candle, just to feel safer.

My body itched to crawl out from under the bed, but the thing didn't leave this time. I could hear it grunting as it pulled itself across the floor one last time before it collapsed, its body thumping against the concrete. Both of us held our breaths, trembling under the not-so-well-hidden hiding spot. Then, I felt 15's hand move from my mouth down to my hand, squeezing gently, and I squeezed right back, smiling even though 15 wouldn't be able to see it.

Multiple pricks in my palm alerted me that 15 was digging her nails into my hand, and I tried to pull away before I could begin to bleed out. Still, I could feel blood droplets slide down my palm and drip onto the floor. On my right, I could feel 15 tense just as the thing in the room with us began to sniff loudly. Purrs filled the room, and the sound of it had my entire body entering the flight-or-fight response.

When 15 began to rapidly leave me, I decided to flee and crawled out from underneath as well. As I did so, the slithering noise started up again; I could feel cold, thin fingers gripping my ankles, getting me to make this odd whine that was _almost_ as scream but not as loud. The purring grew louder and louder, and the hand latched onto my legs was vibrating intensely. The muscles on my legs burned from the exertion and one of them just wouldn't move anymore. Without one of my legs to use as support, I clumsily crashed onto the ground, almost hitting the bed as I fell.

The thing crawled over me, trying to reach for my hand, purring and moaning all the while. Everywhere the thing touched, my muscles grew limp, and I was soon hardly able to even move. The monster pinned my arms down on the floor with two hands, but it didn't matter; even if I could use both arms, I was still too weak to fight off even a child. A tongue lapped up my blood, and the vibrations turned into shudders, and a long whine left the creature. Something hard, hopefully the back of their claws or nails, was pressing into my side a bit, yet it was hardly as important as the sharp teeth the thing had biting down into my hand again. I whimpered weakly, and I could hear 15 knocking into the bed, most likely trying to find where I was in the darkness.

As the tongue lapped up the blood again, 15 slammed into the creature, and a fierce roar of anger was torn out of the thing's throat. Drowsy, I could hardly move until 15 slapped my face a couple of times, almost shouting, "Wake up!" Feeling returned to my body, but it felt like sharp needles poking into my skin all over. The feeling that you get when your arm "falls asleep" was the same feeling around everywhere the stupid creature touched. Enough adrenaline pumped through my body that I could move around a bit, but who knew how long it would last before I finally collapsed.

"We have no time to lose!" The arm with the claw marks was pulled on, and blistering pain sprouted up along my arm. I was too weak to scream. Everywhere was hurting. I was one big bruise posing as a functioning human being, and I was not a very good actor at that. "Come on!" My legs recovered the fastest, allowing me to stand on my own without support, and my arms were recovering fast.

The creature was slowly getting up again, and I could hear the dopy whines turning into ferocious growls and hisses. "Come on!" Her whisper helped to guide me into the vent, and I clambered through right behind 15, favoring my right side. Trailing after us was the screams of the creature, alerting anything else in the vicinity our whereabouts.

"Hurry! Before 1 gets here!" Even as 15 said that, I could hear the faint sounds of water sloshing, and it helped to propel me forward. From behind, the creature was sliding along the vent, babbling nonsense in howls and shouts.

A few more seconds, and the walls of the vent pressing down on all sides ceased to exist. I was lifted up onto my feet, and I fumbled for the matches I had somehow kept ahold of, since the lights had most likely been shut down. There was no time, so I gave up and stumbled along through the dark. Since the hushes of water flowing grew louder from each direction, there was no way to know which way 1 was coming from. "Which way?" I half-yelled, the cacophony of noises from the water and the growls from the creature in the vent making it impossible to hear each other otherwise.

"This way!" 15's voice came from my left, light and gentle compared to the other noises filling my ears. I chased after her voice, and tried to direct myself away from any strange yelps or hisses that now filled the hallways. "Over here! Hurry!"

As we ran, the slithers of the creature grew louder, but the water never stopped running and even surged around my legs, propelling me along the hallway, and I could feel and hear my feet hitting water while I followed 15's guiding voice. "Come on! We need to find a room!" I nodded, mentally slapping myself when I remembered that it was darker than the darkest night.

Though I was expecting the creature to be fast, I hadn't expected it to catch up so quick, immediately on my tail with how loud its purring was. Even with a pistol I couldn't defend myself, for I couldn't tell where the creature was in the dark, and I could end up shooting 15. A few times the long, thin fingers brushed against my leg, but the water would rise enough that the creature would always miss trying to balance itself. Then I heard 1's familiar voice humming the song, and the water rose to my kneecaps. Soon after, the creature that had been following us screamed into the night right behind us, cutting off abruptly. Chills slide down my spine, and the water began to drain, which meant 1 was gone. That was one good thing.

Before I could sigh in relief, howls erupted from almost every hallway around us, and 15 yanked me into one of the rooms on my left. The door was silently shut behind us, and the new surroundings had me bumping into a bed in the middle. Every room had a bed in the middle of it, it seemed. "All we have to do is survive a few hours. That shouldn't be too bad."

15 wasn't sounding very convinced about what she said, but I was willing to believe that we could do this. Screams filled the night, and I hugged myself tightly, wishing that I was back with my friends, wishing I had never joined Sadia, and wishing I had just stayed outside the room. Slim arms wrapped around me as best as they could, and I leaned into them, desiring comfort from any human being by this point. "You might want to hide your blood, or else they'll find us again." 15 pulled away, ripping off some clothing before wrapping the cloth around my hand.

"Why would I need to hide it?" Loop around the tree and through the rabbit hole. Tighten the bow to keep the bandage on. The darkness kept me from seeing 15, but I think she's looking right at me.

A tiny gasp echoed through the room right as I could feel the sticky bandage on my sliced arm peeling off. "Did I do that? Sorry..." *rip* Another article of clothing was being wrapped around my other arm this time.

"Well? Why would I need to hide my blood from them?"

"Because they can smell it. I don't know why, but for some reason, the smell of your blood drives the others bonkers and makes them act like they're drunk or intoxicated just by the smell. Even 9 was affected, though not as severely as 4 or 5." Her warmth leaves me, allowing the cold to sweep in and take the remaining warmth away. There was no way I was sleeping on that bed, who knows what might have been on it.

"Intoxicated? On the smell of my blood?" That was hard to believe. How would you react if you were told that your blood makes monsters around you drunk? 15, however, didn't even acknowledge that I said anything of the sort.

"We're going to be here a while. Might as well relax." With that, 15 returns to snuggle up closer, sharing our warmth and shielding the other from the unrelenting cold surrounding us. Her arms wrapped around mine, and mine were wrapped around hers. The concrete wall dug into my back, and the hard floor wasn't any better.

Though it made for a lousy bed, I was too tired to even think about the creatures still roaring into the night, and sank into a deep sleep.

 **[Fatigue]**

 _Looking over the desert, I shield my eyes from_ _the sun, ignoring the scorching heat cooking my skin for the moment. All that really mattered was getting to the mountains. Find the Right Arm. Defeat WCKD._

 _Simple, right?_

 _"How's it looking?!" I turn back to my friends, and there's Newt, Frypan, and Minho seated on some rocks, skin turning red from the unrelenting heat and sweating profusely._

 _"It's a little further!" They all turn around, quite obviously not convinced. I can hear one of them muttering something, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is Teresa._

 _Her face worries me, so I express my concerns. "Hey, what's going on with you?" My heart sinks at the thought of her getting hurt by something WCKD had done to her._

 _"They did something to me." She pauses, as if something she was trying to keep inside was eating away at her. "At first, it just felt like I was waking up from a dream or something. Then they all started coming back."_

 _"Your memories?" A slight nod. Softly biting her bottom lip. "What do you remember?" I'm desperate to know something, anything._

 _"I remember the first time they brough you in. I was taller than you, then. Faster, too." She lightly giggles, and butterflies flutter in my stomach at the sound of her laugh. A blush fights to be seen, but I bury it down._

 _"Okay."_

 _"And I remember why we were all there. We thought we could fix all of this." The girl rub the back of her neck, facing me once more with a bit of nervousness yet determination in her stance. "I think we should go back."_

 _"What?" Did she seriously just SAY that?! That we should GO BACK?!_

 _"Just listen to me—!" No! They hurt us. What else is there to consider?_

 _"What are you talking about? Go back? After everything they've done to us?" Her eyes show conflicting expressions, as if she's ACTUALLY thinking about if she should side with WCKD or not. There's nothing to think about, WCKD is evil and that's that._

 _She shakes her head, desperation in her voice. "It's not that simple." How is it not simple? Does she seriously think it's complicated? WCKD hurt us and are hooking us up to machines to suck the life right out of us, of COURSE we can't go back._

 _"Yeah, I think it's that simple."_

 _Her eyes are ablaze with hidden loss and annoyance at how I wasn't getting what she meant. "No. You don't understand."_

 _"What don't I understand?" I take a step forward, silently daring her to say something that would change my mind._

 _"Everything was fine until you..." She falls silent, letting the sentence trail off. Why does everyone want to keep secrets from me?_

 _"What?" I'm tired of all the secrets, all the lies. I NEED something to satisfy me, some kind of truth._

 _"Nothing." Her head bows and she won't look me in the eye._

 _I can't take it anymore. I need answers. "Teresa, what aren't you telling me?" I deserve to know..._

 _"Hey!" Our heads rise in unison, observing the others. "Guys, get down here!"_

"Thomas, wake up!" My lids flew open and I straightened up in an instant, a crick in my neck. Spooking 15, I silently cheered for getting revenge, even if suddenly sitting up made me dizzy. Then, I realized that I could see. Did I really make it through the night?

"You scared the crap out of me!" Her dress was torn at the hem, and I could see the fabric of her dress wrapped around my right hand and my entire left arm. Sweat shone on her head, 15 was breathing heavily, and splatters of blood stained her once pristine dress; in her hand, she held a burlap sack full of who knows what. Most likely the sack 5 was said to have. A grin split her face in half, but there was an underlying sorrow under her cheerfulness. I rubbed my eyes, wishing for a sink to wash away the blood stains that were scattered around my ripped shirt.

"Come on!" 15 pulled on my right arm, wary of my wounds. "If it's bright out, we should leave as soon as possible! I got the sack that has everything we need to get you where you need to be!" Basking in her victory, 15 grinned and slung the sack over her shoulder.

A new candle (we had forgotten the last one when we were running away from the purring creature) and the box of matches were almost pushed into my hands. It hurt when the match box dug into one of the bite wounds, but I didn't react. I just woke up, but I was so tired that I just couldn't react to the pain like how I usually would. "There!" 15's face glowed with pride and hid a bit of the sadness that I could see in her face, so I decided not to mention anything about what she was feeling. Even though she might be hurting, I wanted to keep her happy for as long as I could.

I'll just talk to her later about this.

Another pull, and I laughed. "Okay, okay!" Now that the hallways were bright and empty of any sign of life other than us, it was less eery and foreboding to walk —rather limp— with 15. The howls from last night had stopped now, but it was very quiet through these halls. And bright. Like the calm before the storm.

Then we stopped in front of a blank wall. No grates, no doors, nothing remotely interesting about this wall. But 15 dropped the sack right in front of the wall, stuffing her hand into it with a wet *squish* that had me cringing. Her hand rummaged through the sack, creating more wet sounds and sometimes a loud bang or a small click, before 15 pulled it out, holding a small yellow key in her hand.

She knocked on the wall, fast and sharp, and then knocked a few more times. It went on, becoming more and more complicated, but at last, something began to move from within the wall. A section of the wall, after a minute or two, slid to the right to reveal a small metal door with a keyhole yet had no doorknob or handle. 15 prodded the hole with the key, before the key finally sunk in deeper than the other times. She twisted the key and kept on going before it couldn't go any farther.

The door swung towards 15, and 15 helped it continue. Once it was wide enough for us to squeeze through, 15 yanked the key out and motioned for me to go through. Complying, I crawled into the small metal duct, but I didn't hear 15 following after me. There was enough room for me to look behind me, but I couldn't turn around.

"Come back soon!" With that, 15 shut the metal door, and I could feel the metal vibrating as everything slid back into place. It was dark, but I still had the matches and a candle, so I lit them. I never had the chance to talk about what might have been eating away at her, and the guilt began to weigh down on me.

As I slowly crawled forward, I couldn't help but let the thoughts of guilt roll over and over again through my mind. Should I have talked to 15 about what she might have been feeling? What would have happened if I did decide to talk? Is she going to hate me for not talking about it with her? What if she's so sad she doesn't notice when 1 might be walking around?!

All of these thoughts swirled in my mind as I reached the end of the duct. I hopped out, remembering to shut it behind me, and I was impressed at how well the exit blended into the wall. Even if I knew what I was looking for, I still would have had so much trouble just trying to find the exit, and would have had much more trouble just trying to get in their territory through it. These kids and possibly teens/adults were the masters of disguise.

As quietly as I could, I opened the door, thanking the universe that the hinges were well greased, and poked my head into the hallway, looking both ways. There was one door to my left that had been boarded up, and the hallway continued a bit farther down to my right, with multiple doors on both sides of the corridor, before turning left. Coming to a conclusion that it was safe, I stumbled out of the room, almost expecting 15 to pop out from the ceiling or behind me. Every single sense seemed to be on hyper alert for anything dangerous.

I couldn't hear anything, couldn't see any other signs of life, and no alarm bells were going off. But it was too silent. By the way the other rooms I entered looked, it should have been bursting to the seams with activity. There was nothing there.

Thankfully, one of the rooms had a spare t-shirt, probably taken off because of the coffee stain. It was a purple plaid button-up shirt and looked horrendous to wear, even by my standards, but I put it on anyways. It was better than having a sliced up, bloody white shirt any day. There were a few bathrooms that I could shower in, for I had most likely been exposed to a lot of germs, but I was too scared to look in the mirror.

Ready to take on the world, I wandered up and down the place, finally reaching where the scientists worked. I could see multiple labs, and there were a few teens and children chained up and snarling at me, glaring as I limped past. Every time I looked at them, or made eye contact, they bared their sharper-than-normal teeth, and everything about them screamed death.

A shiny object caught my attention, and I almost grinned in victory at what I stumbled upon. There, lying harmlessly on a metal cart with some sheets of important-looking papers, was a camera. They must have been taking photos and videos of their subjects, recording when and how the subjects slowly lost their minds. This would be perfect to show my friends if they didn't believe what I was going to say to them.

As I picked up the camera, one of the cell doors burst open to reveal Katy, mutilated to the point where she was almost unrecognizable, if it wasn't for her voice screaming, "It's all your fault! You're the reason why they did this to us!"

 **And...that's it. Sorry for the cliffhanger (again), but I want to post this chapter today. So, I have to end it here. See, I gave you some answers!**

 **Anyways, I hoped you liked this chapter! See you all in the next chapter/story!**


	15. Resurrecting The Dead

**So, the last chapter was a bit...confuzzling as well. I'll explain it sooner or later. It's just so hard to come up with the ways in which it comes about. So, I'll just type and hope that it comes out the way I want it to in the end.**

 **Anyways, onto the story!**

I backed away from Katy, whom's body was contorted into something less human. She wasn't as bad as, say, 1, but Katy was still messed up. Her nails were sharp and hooked, similar to all the other subjects that I have ever seen, her teeth had sharpened to the point where they were knives in her mouth, and her eyes were large and round. "You did this to all of us!" Katy howled with laughter, slightly choking on the copious amounts of saliva cultivating in her mouth.

Saliva dribbled down Katy's chin, and her head jerked to the side every so often. Her hair fell over her shoulders, and Katy kept close to the ground, cackling when I took another step back. Then she was right in front of me, and her sharp nails were aimed at my throat. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you!" I could feel her nails pressing a bit deeper, and every second with that creature drinking my blood flashed through my mind. I could feel the exact moment Katy's nails punctured my skin, allowing my blood to trickle down. That was the same moment that an explosion rocked the building. We both stumbled, and I had fallen onto the floor, too spooked to think about keeping myself upright.

The concrete on the walls cracked, but the floor and the ceiling were thankfully left intact. I don't know how that happened, but it works for me. Might as well just let it be.

The coppery smell of my blood filled the air, and I knew that right away monsters would be attracted by the aroma. Yet I didn't expect Katy, as I scrambled to my feet, to start purring just like the creature in the dark. Fear settled into my very bones at the way Katy's eyes glazed over, and she began to dazily stumble in my direction. A short whine emanated from Katy, and I chose that as the sign to run the hell away.

The door banged against the wall after I threw it open, some of the wall flaking off because of it, and I could hear Katy purring and whining somewhere behind me, slamming into walls as she followed me. For once the fatigue I had felt was pushed to the back of my mind, and it felt like I was back in the Maze again, turning this way and that way, hoping that I wasn't getting hopelessly more lost.

Falling on my face, I reminded myself to stay focused and realized that I was at an intersection. I could hear some voices, but from where? I took a step to the right. No, it wasn't getting louder.

Katy's purrs were growing ever so louder, and the voices stopped. Choosing between forward and left, I chose to go left and dashed through the hallway, turning at the end of that corridor right as Katy screeched. Ripping off a piece of the hem of the plaid shirt, I wrapped the ripped cloth around my neck, hoping that the coppery scent wasn't sticking onto me. Otherwise, I was doomed.

Then, panicked voices yelled from somewhere to my right. At another intersection, I turned right, and in my peripheral vision, I could see Katy sprinting drunkenly after me. That helped to propell me forward.

I was heading for the door at the end of the hall, but after I passed one of the doors on my left, the voices began to fade away. Cursing mentally, I turned around and, ignoring Katy closing in on me, fumbled for the doorknob. It turned, but the door wasn't opening. Then Katy slammed into me, and we both fell on the floor.

She purred and pinned my arms down, grinning down at me. Even though it was clearly Katy's face, when she opened her mouth, it wasn't her voice that came out. _"Don't worry, I won't hurt you, I won't leave you."_ It was Janson, leaning down to my ear and whispering, _"Not like how Newt did."_ All of my screams couldn't get past my throat, and I was left gasping like a fish, not able to get enough air. Janson was ruffling through my hair, his other hand drifting down... Then Katy was back, ripping the cloth around my hand, uncovering the bitten skin. She let a nail dig into my skin and then brought that digit up along my arm, leaving one long, bloody scratch on my right arm.

It burned, and tears drifted down as I feebly struggled against Katy's hold, yelping as the pain in my arm grew. However, Katy acted as if I wasn't even trying, bending her head down to let her tongue lap up my blood, shivering after every lick. Finally, I put all of my strength into my leg and lifted my knee up, and it hit Katy straight in the gut.

She howled in pain and let go, backing up to bend over. I scurried away from Katy, hopping back up on my feet. Growling, Katy lifted her head up, eyes still glazed over, and bared her sharp teeth, hissing. Right then and there, the voices that I had heard on the other side of the door screamed in pain, and the door burst open. A torrent of water gushed out of the opening, completely soaking Katy, and then 1 stepped out into the hallway between me and Katy.

My gasp had 1 slowly turning his head to meet me, and his corpse looked a bit worse. His entire hand had fallen off at some point, and parts of his legs have disappeared, leaving gaping holes where skin used to be. Other than that, he looked exactly alike. Gaping eye sockets glared at me, and after a few moments where I was sure I would die, 1 gradually turned his head to Katy, who had just finished shrieking from the shock of the water.

Katy looked up at 1. When she looked into his eye sockets, she let out a shriek, stumbling away. In an instant, water rushed to push me through the door, slamming it behind me. A lone howl of pain was all that I could hear over the water rushing, and then there was a lapse in the noises.

Then, I heard a body being dragged across the floor and I clapped a hand over my mouth, almost vomiting. I shouldn't have turned around, for after I saw it, I couldn't keep it in any longer. In the middle of the room was a pale blue hand, missing its thumb and parts of its palm, laying on the floor. The hand had a horrible smell that had me feeling queazy even after I threw up.

Unsteadily, I got back up on my feet, grabbing the camera that had ended up in this room with me, and took this chance to look around. The carpet was a lovely shade of red with gold patterns in it, and it would have been even more beautiful if it wasn't for my vomit staining it, the wet papers scattered all over the room, the computers also littering the floor, and the corpse's hand on it. The walls were a creamy color, with some cracks and a few paintings of lush forests and gorgeous flowers decorating the room. There were a few oak wood desks with the chairs misplaced all over the room, yet there was nothing that would suggest that anyone other than 1 had been in this room recently.

I heard screams of pain originating from this room, but there was no blood, no corpses, other than the pale blue hand that most certainly belonged to 1, just nothing that suggested that people were murdered in this room. So, without anything else to do here, I shuffled over to the door that was right in front of me and tried the doorknob. It wasn't locked, something that I was grateful for, and opened with ease.

Once the door was open, revealing the barren white hallways I now associated with this building and WCKD, a wave of noises washed over me. Alarms were ringing, the thundering sounds of footsteps originated from somewhere on my left, and people were shouting and screaming. "Hurry!" "This section is gonna come crashing down!" "Let me grab—!" "There's no time!"

Then a piece of the ceiling broke off on my right, crashing into the floor and going straight through it. Cautiously, I looked down the hole and saw that the ceiling piece had cut through multiple floors before stopping. Falling through that would break multiple bones if I was lucky, and knowing me, I wasn't very lucky. So, I backed away slowly until I had some distance between me and the hole, and soon after, I jogged in the direction of the shouts. The adrenaline had stopped affecting me, and now that death wasn't chasing me down the halls, the fatigue hit me like a speeding bus.

Despite having been a runner in the Maze, I knew I had bad direction when it comes to buildings; so I cursed whoever designed this building as I hobbled through the hallways, clutching the wound from 5 that had opened up again. In the distance, I could hear the screeches of the subjects locked away in cells; somehow, I knew that they had been set free by whatever had happened recently. All I could do was hope that my friends weren't in the building right now and were safe and sound back in the hotel.

Then I bumped into someone else with a lab coat, most likely a doctor, and cursed myself for not paying attention _again_. "Watch where you're—!" The doctor cut off when he saw me, eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Thomas?!"

I couldn't even nod in response for I was on the verge of fainting. The doctor grasped my left arm in a tight hold, irritating the three claw marks. Hissing in pain, I was being dragged away by the doctor, who yelled "I found Thomas!" to a group of soldiers I didn't even spot before. Those soldiers had on dark clothing, and reminded me of the WCKD soldiers. Flashbacks to being saved, Minho getting shot, Teresa handing me a syringe, they all flashed through my mind in just one moment, leaving me even more disoriented.

Those soldiers took one look at me before dropping whatever they were doing to usher me through the hallway, one of them staying behind to thank the doctor. There were about 4 in total, and three of them were pushing me along the hallways, turning this way and that in unison. Completely confused, I couldn't help but imagine them as WCKD soldiers guiding me to a Berg, to take me back to Janson—

 _I have to stop thinking like that!_ Shaking my head, I tried to get rid of those thoughts and just stumble alongside the soldiers in peace, but they wouldn't go away; it was too similar to the time when Minho and the others were rescuing me from WCKD, with the sirens and the soldiers and the endless maze of hallways. Every time I blinked, I thought I would open them up to see Janson there, his hands reaching out to me. Or perhaps with a pistol aimed at those behind me, pulling the trigger before I had a chance to react.

Then, I stumbled and fell onto the floor, mentally kicking myself for not paying attention once again. _Get ahold of yourself! Pay attention!_

As I was being helped up by the soldiers, I thought I saw a pair of eyes reflecting the lights from inside one of the vents near the ground. But I had no time to investigate or even think about it, for I was being shoved through blank white hallways once more. The alarms at last shut off, leaving only the sounds of our feet hitting the ground to break the silence.

One foot in front of the other. That was all I focused on. If I didn't, I would have passed out a long time ago. It seemed to stretch on forever, and I had no idea what time it could possibly be. I could have been out for longer than a day or maybe an hour, and I wouldn't be able to tell because everything looked the same.

Anyways, it took forever before we finally stopped in front of an oak door. It had some fancy engravings in it, mostly some kind of animal with four legs— _a horse_ , my childhood memory practically screams—and when they open the door, I was terrified by how _familiar_ this room was. It was almost exactly the same as the room I had been pushed into by 1, except it didn't look like a tornado went through it. Everything was stacked neatly, the chairs were positioned at the desks where the scientists—Mrs. Beldom included—worked on their computers, and the paintings on the cream colored walls were not paintings, but framed pictures of people whom I've never seen before, except the picture of a young woman with silky blond hair that reached down to her shoulders. It took me a while to recognize who it was, considering that I met her way after this picture had been framed. Ava Paige. The woman who had led WCKD and put me in the Maze with my friends.

One of those paintings had been thrown into the trash can, and if I had the time, I would have looked inside to see what it was. But Mrs. Beldom was hopping out of her chair like the others and rushed over to me, her face split into a wide grin. "Thomas!" Almost all of the scientists were either glad or surprised to see me, with a little awe in every expression I could see, but Mrs. Beldom's expression was one of relief and fear. "How did you _survive?!_ "

 _What?_ Expressing my thoughts out loud, I asked, "What? What do you mean by that?"

Mrs. Beldom cleared her throat, straightening her back and tilting her chin up in an almost regal manner, composing her features. She had a poker face on now, which was strange to be on her face. It reminded me too much of Ava in the...WCKD compound, if I remembered that correctly.

 _Stay focused!_ Trying to get back in with what was happening, I barely managed to catch what Mrs. Beldom was saying. "...a week, and I worried that you could have been murdered or killed by the explosions! Please understand that I really do care about you." Everyone around us was nodding along with her, falling for her caring attitude, and I would have, too, if I knew as much as them; however, I knew more about what was happening, judging by the subjects and soldiers. I knew that Mrs. Beldom wasn't just the sweet woman that she seemed to be.

Suddenly I was on the floor. I couldn't remember why I had collapsed, or why there were two Mrs Beldoms, but they were all shouting and picking me up off the floor. I'm so, so tired. I just wanted to go to sleep.

An explosion thundered off in the distance, reeling me back to reality. Mrs Beldom was running by the soldiers, talking to me. It was hard to listen to her when there were so many distractions, but I caught her saying, "You've lost so much blood. And you have anemia that went untreated for over a week. I'm surprised that you even managed to stay awake for this long. We need a blood transfusion stat, maybe some iron therapy."

Another explosion rocked the ground, causing all of the others to stumble. Small pieces of the ceiling crumbled and fell to the floor, clacking against the floor. They stabilized themselves, and my heart dropped when the sounds of the Bergs finally penetrated the walls, distracting me from whatever else Mrs Beldom was saying.. Though the sounds were fading fast, my heart pounded at the thought that Janson might be here, watching and waiting for me to appear once more.

Even though I knew it would be bad to drift off into my thoughts, especially when I had lost so much blood, I couldn't help but wonder what was causing the building to shake. The explosions had stopped a while ago, but the building still rattled. The vibrations had to come from somwhere, but from where? What could possibly shake a building other than an explosion or a bomb?

As Mrs. Beldom guided the soldiers and I through the hallways (she couldn't possibly be just as lost as I am, she just couldn't), creaks and groans from within the walls could be heard, and morbid images of my body crushed under tons of rocks and chunks of concrete popped into my mind. Though it was likely, I pushed those thoughts into the darkest corners of my mind. They couldn't possibly come true, right?

At last, the group found a staircase (for some reason, I felt like Mrs. Beldom stumbled upon this staircase by accident instead of on purpose, but that thought was just absurd), and the multiple flights of stairs never seemed more welcoming in all my life. My body trembled as the soldiers guided me down the staircase, weak at the memory of all the times where I was chased by WCKD on similar stairs. Clean, white walls; metal stairs with railings; being pulled along by someone...

It was too similar.

"Hurry, Thomas." The tone of her voice was urgent, and it conflicted her composed, calm look. Now all of those thoughts that the building was about to come down became more real, more solid. Or perhaps those (rather absurd) thoughts that Mrs. Beldom was lost and didn't know where she was going.

However, it wasn't any of those. After these thoughts began to spark and light up and guided me through the fog in my mind, I heard the telltale sounds of someone barreling down the halls of this building. Too many times have I heard these sounds chasing me when I was still with 15. Instantly, the sparks of uncertainty turned into flames fanned by fear and panic.

No sooner did the group start to run down the stairs, a familiar voice screamed, "YOU!" Mentally I stopped functioning for a split moment, from both my dizzyness and the fact that I heard this person die. I swiveled my head, my eyes widened enough to burn, and I almost said, "Katy?" Nevertheless, my sore throat and the surprise of seeing Katy alive banned the words from leaving my mouth.

Actually, maybe _alive_ wasn't the right word. More like a walking corpse.

Katy's eyes was glazed over with the same haunting look as... Mr. Miller (I totally didn't forget the poor dude's name). At least, they were until one of them rolled right out of her eye socket. A scream built up, not yet ready to release, as I took in the rest of her decaying body in shock.

Her sharp nails and lips were a pale white, her skin turning purple and waxy, and her hands were slowly turning blue, just like 1. There was a gaping hole where her heart should have been, and the little remaining blood that wasn't dried up dripped onto the floor. I don't even know how she could talk, since she was dead, but I didn't question it. Too much was going on all at once for me to question anything anymore. What caught most of my attention was where Katy's left arm should have been. There was now no arm below the elbow, which had me wondering for one second where her arm was at this moment.

Katy snapped me out of my shocked and horrified state by screaming "You lied to me!" while diving at Mrs. Beldom, who screamed as she tried to move away in time. Both the moving corpse and the living, breathing body tumbled down the stairs, Mrs. Beldom slamming into the railing with a cry of pain. Without a hint of hesitation or wariness, Katy bit down on Mrs. Beldom's upper left arm, getting her to writhe and scream. Blood flew through the air as both women struggled, one of them trying to escape the other's brutal attacks.

The soldiers loosened their grip on me, trying to figure out how to help Mrs Beldom without leaving me to fend for myself, and my first instinct was to flee as far away from here as possible. But some part of me wished to help Mrs. Beldom fight, to get Katy off of her. It was shushed up rather quickly when I heard howls in the distance, the shrieks and screams of the mentally unstable subjects.

 **And there we go. I didn't know how to end it, but that was as close to it as I could get. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I couldn't figure out a way to end this chapter without making it way too long. So I ended it here.**

 **Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter. See you in the next chapter/story!**


	16. The Building Fell And Creepy Janson Time

**Hey, this is taking a lot longer than I would expect. I never knew it was this hard to come up with a good plot, especially when you're improvising. So, I'll try to write faster, but I probably won't be much faster.**

 **Anyways, I think I have an idea where I want this to go, so I'm going to try and steer it in that direction. However, I have very little control over my thumbs, so... Don't expect it to have gone the way I intended this to. I wasn't even going to have Thomas escape WCKD a third time, but here we are! No Janson in sight!**

 **I want to write a bit more Janson/Thomas time, but I don't know where I want this to go. I'll might use a bit of the plot that a guest had written in their review, but I don't know if I want Thomas to have to go through all of that.**

 **I'll probably write another story about that plot. Maybe I'll even include a bit of it in this story, but I don't know. Also, thanks for your support. I know it may not seem like it, but it does somewhat matter to me if others like it. It's a cliche sentence, but that is what I think and feel.**

 **Now that I've gotten that out of the way, onto the story!**

My heart pounded violently in my ribcage, almost like it's trying to leap out of my chest as I hear the shrieks and howls coming closer. Mrs. Beldom screamed in pain, landing a pretty weak punch on Katy's cheek, too weak to even cause any damage to the normal human body. However, Katy was now a corpse, and her head snapped to the right as if she had been violently hit. From where I stood, right next to the women fighting, I could see her empty eye socket, and blood glistened as it leaked out, slowly sliding down her cheek.

Katy's jaw dropped open, and she let out a roar, the sound banging around in my head. My hands went straight for my ears, and I could hardly breathe as Katy turned back to Mrs. Beldom, a sadistic smile on her face. A flash of light, a squeal of surprise, and Mrs. Beldom kicked away Katy, holding a now-empty syringe in her bloody hands. Looking down as she clambered back up a few steps, Katy's index finger briefly ghosted over a small hole in her arm from the syringe, before looking back up at Mrs. Beldom, hissing.

"You... You did this to all of us! I—no, WE trusted you, but you just _had_ to stand out against your sister!" Mrs. Beldom's eyes flickered over to me and the three soldiers, frightened by what Katy was saying. A shrill laugh bubbled up, along with some purplish blood, and then a knife glimmered in the overhead lights as it went straight through Katy's stomach.

Surprise in her facial features, Katy stared at the knife in her stomach, releasing one last giggle before her one eye rolled back into her head. All of her remaining limbs went limp, and she tumbled down the remaining stairs, stopping right in front of Mrs. Beldom.

My eyes were locked onto Katy's form, so similar to Ava when Janson had shot her. Standing before me, willing to make up for what she had done, before she fell on top of me. I couldn't even keep her body from falling to the ground, wasn't fast enough, wasn't careful enough...

 _Ava was standing right in front of me, face washed-up and shoulders sagging. Her eyes lacked the determination I had seen in them last, the cold harshness I knew her for. She seemed more... human now._

 _"It's okay." Tears streamed down, staining my cheeks, and I don't make a move to stop them. I sniffle, heart tearing into pieces because_ he _had died._ _Fire was in my chest, burning away at my insides, and its fuel was my grief._

 _"Just leave the others alone." I hope that Ava understands what I'm asking, that she can see the silent plea in my eyes. Hoping that the crack in my voice helped Ava understand how broken I was now, how much I needed my friends to stay safe._

 _Understanding reflected in Ava's body language, and for once, relief washed over me. "I promise." She took one more step closer to me, her head tilting a bit up to keep her eyes locked onto mine, to show how sincere she's being right now. "I will—!" *BANG*_

"Thomas!" _15?_

I only had a second to react before something lunged at me, screaming bloody murder. My back hit the wall _hard_ , and the breath left my lungs in a hurry. Dizzy and tired, I couldn't do anything to stop the thing in front of me from prying me off the wall, only to throw me back at it once more.

Everything was a blur. I couldn't feel, couldn't see. 15 is shrieking somewhere in front of me, and the now familiar coppery smell of blood filled the air. Something else is screaming, too, but in pain rather than in fury. Then the sound of flesh being torn open ripped through the air, and I could imagine 15 tearing someone apart at the waist, relishing in the pain she had given whoever had angered her.

It was gone in an instant. "Thomas! Are you okay?" Tears were in her very voice, and the waver I could almost feel had my heart breaking in two. 15 was just a small child, she shouldn't be going through this.

After a couple of seconds, my sight began to clear, allowing me to see 15 once more. She wasn't hurt at all, her dress stained with blood that surely wasn't hers. For some reason, I felt I could tell if 15 was actually bleeding or not, and I wasn't getting any gut instincts telling me something was wrong. So I relaxed, giving myself this moment of vulnerability. It's not like 15 hasn't seen me vulnerable before.

"Thomas?" I had been quiet for too long, contemplating things I shouldn't have been at this time. There were still more subjects out there, howling and roaring in their search to find other people, to maim something other than themselves.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." Getting up, I let 15 hold onto my hands as if I was her life support, the only thing keeping her tied down. Knowing 15, that might be the case. But before we could both start to run for it, I fell flat on the floor, feeling lightheaded.

"Thomas!" 15 cried out, prying me off of the floor, She turned to someone near her and said, "He's so sleepy and tired. Is he going to die?"

"No, he isn't." _4?_ Strong arms lifted me off of the ground, and I could feel the vibrations of her voice as 4 talked. "But he does need medical help, fast. We need to bring him to the doctors."

From what little I could see of 15's face, she was horrified. "But, the doctors—!"

"I know how much you hate them," 9 said, unexpectedly appearing on my right, "but he needs help that we can't give. Only the doctors know what's wrong with him." 15 crossed her arms and huffed, not amused in the slightest. She didn't argue further, though.

Movement in the corner of my eye reminded me of Mrs. Beldom's presence. She staggered, holding onto her bitten arm to try and stop the bleeding. It was failing miserably, and I could tell that Mrs. Beldom never had to fight for her life, never had gotten wounded, and therefore, she had never had to experience what she's going through now.

Disgust and rage practically radiated off of 15, 9 and 4, with 4's growls sending through my body and irritating my reopened wounds and bruises. The air around the three grew tense, laced with the intention to kill. My hand clenched hers in a vice grip, a silent rope tying her down, telling all of them, "No. Don't."

Eyes locking with Mrs. Beldom's, I tilted my head to mutely say, "Leave." Receiving the message, Mrs. Beldom hurried down the stairs, and none of the subjects made a move to stop her. On a dime, 15 dragged me back up the stairs, where me and Mrs. Beldom had come from. "Wait, I just came from here."

Hesitation was not in 15's book, for she didn't even slow down after hearing that, stepping around Katy's fallen eye without a second thought. 9 and 4 followed after her, trusting 15 knew where she was going. In response, she said, "I know. I saw you in the vents." _Ah, so those eyes in the vent were 15's._

No more words were exchanged. There was no need to. As if our minds were one, we never had to stop, never had to explain when we didn't feel like it, never had to end the silence. We were all comfortable in each other's presence, so we didn't need to talk, and there was never an awkward silence. Rather, we listened for anything that could harm us, even if it was a doctor that was running for their lives. Anything could become dangerous if you overlook it.

The rest of the walk was uneventful. In fact, it was rather quiet the entire time we traveled back to the room that I had left. The door was big and probably locked, but when 15 moved to open it, the entire door fell apart. Pieces of the oak wood crumbled to the floor, littering the entire floor and would give anyone splinters if they tried to walk through the pile.

Scoffing, 15 dug her nails into the wall, carefully navigating the crumbling wall as she climbed up to the ceiling, where there were no cracks. Soon enough, she landed on the other side, heading straight for the trash can, where I had noticed one of the pictures had been thrown out earlier. "Catch!" 15 yelled, the picture sailing through the air soon after.

After catching it, 9 dropped it out of shock and disgust, allowing me a chance to see who it was. The picture was of a younger Janson, though I would recognize that rat's face anywhere. His signature smirk was there, right above golden plaques that wrote of his achievements, and I felt the urge to spit on his face. 15 landed gracefully on the floor, her movements fluid and almost acrobatic.

"Why... Why is there a picture of Janson here?" My lips burned at the memory of Janson kissing me, and my stomach had the urge to vomit at every recollection I had of him. But I had to push those down since I would throw up on 4 otherwise. It was hard to, but I tried to think about why a picture of Janson would be _here_ , in the "better version" of WCKD, without throwing up.

 _He had to have been working with them. So why was his picture in the trash can? Why was it in the trash can_ now _of all times, and not sooner? Was this the original base of WCKD, or just another branch that had seperated after Janson took control? Are all of those other pictures the leaders of WCKD, or important personnel? Why are they all still up and not thrown away like Janson's picture?_

"I don't know. But he was the one that told Mrs. Beldom not to try this." That was a blow to the gut. _What? So Janson_ was _working with Mrs. Beldom?_

It didn't make any sense. Why would Janson talk to Mrs. Beldom about any of this, and not even attempt to stop it once Mrs. Beldom started? How did 15 know this? Why didn't Mrs. Beldom listen? And why did Janson tell Mrs. Beldom _not_ to do whatever she did?

So many questions rolled around in my brain, and I pondered these questions. "How do you know that?" 15 looked up at me, then moved to pull up her dress. "Wha—?!"

15 shushed me, pulling it up just enough for me to notice a bag tied around her waist, but not enough for me to *ahem* see anything...revealing. She dug her hand through the bag, the scratches of paper making its way up to my ears, and then she finally pulled out a couple of folded up pieces of paper. Handing it over, 15 covered her mouth with her hand as she yawned, stretching as she did so before collapsing onto the ground.

9 had picked up the papers, reading them aloud to me in order. There were multiple printed messages, but I'm just going to summarize it: Janson told Mrs. Beldom not to experiment with the Immunes' blood, but instead hand it over for examination to try and find the Cure. Mrs. Beldom agreed at first, but then emailed someone that she was cutting ties with Janson right before we all escaped the Maze. At least, I think so. It would make some sense, because then we would have never heard about these people if they had cut all ties with WCKD before we escaped the Maze instead of after.

Anyways, after a bit of reading, Mrs. Beldom was trying to tell Ava her results, but Janson slammed them right back in her face and told her to fuck off and not to interfere. Further reading gave me a bunch of words that I didn't understand, but I got the gist of it (I think). She would take the Immunes' enzymes, tweak it a bit to try and perfect it, before forcing the human body to try and produce the enzymes, disfiguring the people that she experimented on.

There were even detailed reports on everyone up to Subject 018, excluding Subject 015 or Subject 001. There was nothing on them, like they never existed or something. Of course, I didn't push it. Why would I if I'm the one without the sharp nails, acrobatic skills, and no hesitation to kill and cannibalize?

Once 9 had finished reading the papers aloud, he rolled them all back up and stuffed them in his own pockets, saying, "Now do you see why we all hate Mrs Beldom?" After I successfully nodded, 9 moved to wake 15 up. "15," he whispered, shoving her with one sharp movement. 15 grumbled and rolled over, stretching out before curling back up again. "Come on, we have to leave now! Thomas could die if we don't get medical treatment.

Then we all heard it. The building groaning, creaking ominously. "15!"

I was considering whether or not they would have to wake her up physically when, at last, 15 opened her eyes and leapt to her feet. "What happened? Did Janson come back for another round?" Nobody knew how to respond to that, but thankfully we didn't need to, for 15 was already running down the hallways, claws out and ready to slice.

4 jostled me awake after I had fallen asleep for a short amount of time by how she was sprinting, impaling my gut with her shoulder every time she took a step. But I couldn't complain when the building groaned underneath us, as if telling us there was little time left to run. Another screech from the building later, and they were flying down the multiple flights of stairs, never once looking back nor caring about the other subjects roaming about the hallways. They probably should be trying to escape as well.

Parts of the railing that 4 had been holding onto crumpled underneath my hand, tearing away from the stairs and almost causing her to tumble down the flight of steps from the sudden lack of support. My whole body started to shut down, but I forced myself to stay awake. The walls started to crumble, and the entire building began to moan in agony, trembling in its effort to stay upright.

"Sheesh, whatever Janson did wrecked this building! I hope everyone makes it out okay..." 15's caring side took over, and for a split second, I could see the young girl that 15 once was. Then it vanished, locked away once more as the situation pushed for the more experienced and insane side to shine.

Out of nowhere, a pipe burst, and the water blasted through the already crumbling wall like it was paper. The water doused me, leaving me soaking wet and bitterly cold. An itch had me sneezing rather loudly, and I wiped my runny nose with my dripping sleeve. In the distance, I could hear another pipe bursting, and the situation became a little more dire. Everything was falling apart, and we were still in the deteriorating building.

As if by some miracle, we all reached the bottom of the stairs without any incidents, and there was no traffic. No screams, no wails, no moans of pain, nothing. Just a chaotic mess left by the people who already came through here.

To our right was the piece of the ceiling that had fallen through all of the floors earlier, blocking off whatever lay on the other side. On our left was the front door, rays of sunlight streaming through. Awestruck, 15 was more quiet than a grave, and her eyes lit up at the sight of sunshine. "It's even more beautiful than I remember..." she whispered, hesitant to cross the room. Both 9 and 4 were speechless, and 4's grip loosened to the point where I clawed at her damp shirt, mentally yelling at my muscles to hold on just a bit longer.

The ceiling above us creaked and groaned, screaming at us to leave. They both listened, and 4 tightened her grip on me again as the three all ran for the exit. The glass doors beckoned us, showing us a sneak peak of freedom, and we both rushed for it. 15 got to the doors first and pushed them open for 9 and 4. None of them stopped for a breath of fresh air and continued to run away from the building as fast as they could, relishing running through sunlight for the first time in forever.

Then the ground rumble, shaking violently beneath our feet. I turned around, and as if it was in slow motion, the entire building caved in, crashing to the ground in a spectacular display of destruction. Anyone that was around screamed and turned in the opposite direction of the building, and 4 accidentally dropped me when dust got in her eyes. I fell on my back, and the wind was knocked right out of me. The sounds of the building roared over my head, and the wind rushed to get away. Dust blew all around, the metal in the building shrieked as it scraped other metals, concrete cracked and crumbled apart, and the wind roared, leaving me paralyzed and praying it would end soon.

Once the building had finally settled, my heavy eyelids closed and I breathed out a sigh of relaxation. _I could sleep, just a bit. It won't hurt anyone..._

Words flew in one ear and out the other as sleep wormed its way to the forefront of my mind. People were whispering, muttering things that made no sense, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was sleep, so I ignored the voices that tried to pull me back.

Then, the words cut out completely, and I was left in the last place I could remember from WCKD. The room with the giant tree, the sweet and gentle bird, long blades of lush grass, the perpetually still lake, and Janson, sitting down and relaxing by the lake. Motioning for me to join him. Red eyes glowed in the background, demonic and wicked.

Pushing against my desire to punch Janson or run away or spit on him or anything like that, my legs, without any input on my part, moved forward. Too soon for my liking, I was standing right next to Janson, who seemed to enjoy this as much as I hated this. "I've been waiting for you, Tommy," was what I heard as I was pulled onto Janson's lap. I snapped out of whatever daze that my body had been in and writhed, trying my best to escape the arms wrapped around me.

"Tommy, stop moving." Immediately, the buzzing grew to overtake all of my muscles, and my body stopped moving altogether. The buzzing continued to vibrate in all of my muscles, and my heart sank as I realized that I was basically paralyzed from my head to my toe.

I was forced into a position where my head lay on Janson's right shoulder, and I could see his expression. The look on Janson's face would have been funny if we were in a different situation. His expression was one of awe and delight, like he couldn't believe that this was happening. That he was touching me, that I wasn't fighting back, that I wasn't leaping out of his hold and running away. That I wasn't able to.

His arms released me apprehensively, testing if I was going to jump up or not. Humiliation painted my cheeks a light pink since I couldn't move (which I knew was because of the buzzing), and I let out a hiss when Janson's hands (colder than ice) lovingly caressed my cheek (no, it couldn't possibly be loving).

"It actually worked," Janson whispered with amazement, his fingers drifting from my cheek down my neck. Janson's fingers left behind a trail of frozen skin under his ruthlessly icy cold touch. I shivered from the cold, wishing to get away from Janson, yet none of my buzzing muscles listened. Bile rose up in my throat, and I hoped that I would vomit all over Janson. Yet that was never meant to be, for it retreated back down my throat, leaving the disgusting aftertaste of it behind.

Hesitating, Janson's fingers hovered above the collar of my shirt, contemplating about whatever was on his mind. Then his hand slithered into my shirt, ghosting over my skin and goosebumps following his fingers. Face forming an expression of pleasure, Janson pulled his hand out of my collar; however, he only did that so his hand could crawl right back into my shirt from the bottom and have easier access to my stomach and chest. A whimper managed to escape right as his other hand lightly hooked onto the hem of my pants. Inside my head, I screamed at Janson to stop right where he was, to release me from whatever hold he had on me, yet I wasn't able to talk at all, barely managing to whine and whimper.

His hand stayed there, and Janson appeared lost in thought. Though he didn't procede with whatever he wanted to do, his hand never backed off, either. Janson's eyes glimmered with a look that sent chills down my humming spine, one that I vaguely knew from when I was just a bit younger, at a time when all of the teenage boys began to look at the prettiest girls (one of whom I could swear was Teresa, with her hair tied into a ponytail and her eyes sparkling under the overhead lights). Lust was hidden in those eyes, but Janson seemed to hesitate, unlike the teenagers that I could remember.

A sigh slipped past Janson's lips while the hand by my pants backed off, allowing me to release the breath I had been holding unconsciously; nevertheless, the hand in my shirt remained, and Janson leaned forward for a tender kiss. The buzz grew even more intense around my head, and I could feel my body kissing back despite my inner voice screaming for Janson's blood to spill. Three emotions raged through my mind as Janson kissed me (I couldn't be kissing him back, it's just my imagination): disgust, hatred, and fear.

But the most prominent emotion was the fear: the fear that Janson could control my every action, even my ability to speak, and manipulate me so I could never leave him. Fear that I would never be rid of him, that Janson would control every last part of me. Janson pulled away to take a breather, and then leaned forward for a kiss once more, his cologne so intense it burned my eyes.

At first, I hardly felt what was darting into my mouth with how powerful the buzz was, numbing my entire body (the only thing I was grateful for; I could hardly feel Janson's touches because of that). Then, over the buzzing, I could feel something wet and slimy and gross prodding my mouth and touching everything it could reach. After I felt it, I could only come up with one thing that could be in my mouth: Janson's tongue.

His tongue danced around with mine for a minute or two and left a sour taste in my mouth when Janson finally pulled away, a thin thread of saliva still connecting our mouths. The hand roaming around in my shirt finally left, but my skin was already frozen stiff by Janson's touch. Glaring, I growled at Janson, only able to make the most animalistic noises any human could make instead of words. It was alarming how Janson had so much control over me, to the point where I couldn't even speak without his approval.

Laughing at my growls, Janson held me close to his chest, nuzzling my neck and breathing in my scent. I could hear and feel Janson moan into my neck, his arms constricting even tighter for a split second, and a blush dusted my cheeks in embarrassment as my mental fists curled up in anger. In between the buzzing sensation and Janson's weird wants and desires, I recalled that I was asleep. Maybe this was all just a dream?

I checked my arms. Yup, no signs of injury. My shirt and pants were the same given to me by WCKD, and there was no dirt or dust clinging onto my skin. Checking my reflection in the still lake, I was clean and more appealing to look at than before, with my hair straightened out and the dark circles around my eyes completely erased from existence.

 _So this must be a dream._ There was no other explanation that worked as well as this one. The buzz, the surroundings, Janson, the disappearance of my wounds. It now all makes sense, but why is Janson acting like this?

Another moan from behind made shivers crawl down my buzzing, numb spine, and I snarled when Janson's hand casually made its way back into my shirt, managing to shoot him a look before Janson started to suck and bite on my neck, and within a few seconds, he found a sweet spot. I moaned as this new, weird sensation hummed with the buzzing, feeling so good and yet so wrong. Of course, Janson loved the strange noise that came up my throat, so I strangled any other noises that threatened to break out as well, trying my best not to respond to what Janson was doing.

Right now, my body was my enemy, moving into Janson's touch and loving every second of it, and Janson seemed to have the same opinion. He sucked and licked at this particular spot that allowed a moan to break through the blockade that I had set up and be released into the open air, my senses tingling with all kinds of excitement. Then Janson's lips moved up to my own, once more deeply kissing my now-somewhat bruised lips.

Whatever this was, it was surely not a dream. It was more like a nightmare.

Every second spent here was an eternity, being forced to do things that I had never dreamed of doing with anyone else with Janson, and I sobbed once Janson was done kissing and sucking on my neck. I despised how many times I broke down in front of Janson, but this time, I didn't care. What was the point? Janson had already seen me cry before, there's no use trying to seem strong when the other knows you're cracking.

"Shh...There, there. It's okay, Tommy." His thumbs wiped away the remaining tears, bringing back the memories of other times where he did the exact same thing. A soft kiss planted itself on my left cheek, and when Janson pulled his lips away, it burned as though Janson's lips were acidic.

Furious at how I couldn't do anything at all, I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to ignore Janson's touches and the faint buzz humming through all of my body, but Janson didn't seem to like that. Janson whispered, right by my ear, "Open your eyes, Tommy, and look at me." As if to annoy me further, the buzzing grew around my eyes, and they fluttered open to meet Janson's own. His lips curled upward, forming a smile that sent shudders down my back, and Janson couldn't help but whisper, "Your eyes are so beautiful, Tommy. I can't wait to actually hold you."

Janson leaned forward, his lips meeting mine for a brief kiss, short but sweet (in Janson's mind). Once Janson pulled away, I could hear Janson ask, "Tommy, do you love me?" The thought of ever loving Janson made me gag mentally, but my body was forced to nod with a love-sick smile, making my mental self heave anything in my mental stomach down a garbage can. I couldn't hear anything else Janson said over the disgust that I felt and the fear that seemed to become more and more real with every passing second.

After Janson finished speaking, my eyelids, out of nowhere, grew heavy and began to close. My body snuggled closer to Janson (I had no part in this whatsoever...though Janson was pretty warm), who tightened his hold on me to the point where I felt like my bones would break, and my breathing began to slow down as I fell deeper into the dream world. Beneath me, I could feel Janson's heart beat against his chest, and my sleepy mind felt soothed by the thought of Janson's heart stopping. Janson burrowed his head in my hair, breathing in my scent, and a strange noise came up from his throat.

The last thing that I heard, before I fell asleep, was Janson saying, "I can't wait until I have you again."

 **So, sorry this took forever. Yes, Janson is in Thomas' dream, and yes, he was _actually_ there. Like, Janson was also dreaming when Thomas entered his dream. Remember the surgery Janson mentioned? Yeah, the surgery was for that purpose _plus_ another one that I'm not going to say yet. But it has something to do with the buzzing Thomas felt.**

 **I might do the story about brainwashed Thomas, but I don't really know yet. Honestly, I don't necessarily like the thought of Thomas being in love with Janson, but whatever. I'll write it if I ever think about a plot for it. I did add just a little bit of a hint of brainwashed Thomas, snd I think that I'll make it part of the plot, but Thomas won't be brainwashed for the majority of this story.**

 **I hate plotting out my stories, because I _know_ that my story will somehow diverge from what I originally planned. So I just think of a general plot and hope that my thumbs will stick to that plot. Otherwise, my story won't even look like my story.**

 **Anyways, I hope that you liked this chapter! See y'all in the next chapter/story!**

 **(Also, I don't understand _why_ , but people ask me if I was born in New York, since I speak like a New Yorker. Neither me nor my family-other than this cousin once removed-have ever set foot in New York. A super weird Fun Fact.)**


	17. Confess!

**So, last chapter was the first time I had written anything like _that_ , so sorry if it was bad (which it was). Anyways, Janson reappeared! It took forever, but I made it happen. Just think of how angry Janson must be at Thomas' friends after having no contact with Thomas for forever.**

 **Anyways, I'm sorry, but this is going to take forever to upload. I really don't want to take forever, but I need to do what I gotta do to get that A. Thomas, I'm going to prolong your suffering for a bit, okay? Okay!**

 **Anyways, onto my other problem. I don't know how I want to end this fanfic, if I should at all. Should I end it, or should I continue this? How would I end it in the first place? Where should I end it, and would the ending be a happy one or a sad one? How many people should die before it ends?**

 **Please help me figure out what I should do! I would really appreciate it!**

 **Now that that's out of the way, onto the story!**

What woke me up was the familiar beeps of a monitor. Loud and clear, it cut through the thin veil of sleep that hung over me and was practically pulling me out of the warm comfort that sleep provided. Beep, beep, beep, beep. Consistent and precise, never missing a beat.

Heavy and crusty, my eyes refused to open for the world, wishing that I would go back to sleep. Yet, with a lot of effort and will, I managed to lift my unwilling eyelids. Only to shut it once more as the bright lights burned my eyes, causing tears to pile up. Refusing to cry again, I wiped away the tears before they could sneak past my eyelids, bracing myself for the overhead lights.

This time, my eyes didn't burn while I sat up in bed, and I swiveled my head to the right when a sudden snore cut through the air like a knife through butter. Head lowered all the way, and in a rather uncomfortable position, sat Harriet in all black, snoring away peacefully. Her face was smooth of any wrinkles, and her lips were lifted at the edges to form a small, sincere smile. I grinned at the sight of a friend in this unfamiliar room, and after a bit of thought, I decided that Harriet should rest some more. Those dark circles weren't going to get any better without sleep, after all, though the tears staining her cheeks worried me a bit.

Taking my time, I examined the room that I was in. One door was about two feet to Harriet's right on the wall behind her, and the other was actually barely a foot away from me, to my left. The wall to my left had a window that would allow me to see the desert right outside the building if there wasn't a ton of dust blowing around, blocking my view of anything else. There was a nightstand to my right, next to the bed, with a glass of ice cold water on top of it that tasted almost sweet when I took a sip. The beeping monitor and Harriet's snores kept the room from being too quiet and unbearable, as well as the faint hum seemingly originating from every direction.

White sheets were spread over my legs and flowed onto the floor, too big and long for both the bed and me. _So soft..._ Lowering myself back onto the bed, I curled up on my right side and snuggled deeper into the blanket, sighing at the warmth that wrapped around me. _Fuzzy blankets are always so warm and cozy..._

For just a moment, the buzz that had been in my dreams vibrated throughout my entire throat and all the way down to my lungs. It was faint, and I could hardly even feel the buzz, but something felt a bit off with it.

So I scratched at my throat a bit, thinking it was just itchy. Guess it wasn't that, as the buzz didn't recede at all. Then I scratched harder, rolled over, moved about, and I even attempted to massage my neck; however, nothing worked.

Out of nowhere, a blur of green leapt onto my fuzzy blanket, and my legs jerked out of surprise. I relaxed a bit when I realized that it was just a cricket before remembering that crickets weren't meant to even be alive at this time (other than at WCKD). This little mystery intrigued me, and I leaned forward expectantly, waiting for the cricket to do something amazing.

Both the cricket and I were deathly still, hesitant to make the first move. Eventually, the cricket made a small chirp and hopped over the side of the bed, safely hidden from view. I knew it had lept off the bed in a certain spot, but when I leaned over, the cricket was completely gone. _That's weird. I was sure it would be right there..._

There was nothing to do about it, so I relaxed a bit and curled up underneath the warm blanket. It felt... nice. Nicer than with Janson, where every room was a freezer.

Drifting off, I barely noticed when the first tickles on my legs. It was nothing important or all that noticeable, so I swept my legs across the bed and curled up once more. All that did was create more tickles, which grew into itches; and eventually, I felt something small bite my legs.

Yelping in a bit of pain, I lifted the blanket up violently—

—and froze in shock, staring at multiple beady eyes that were locked onto my own.

 _Spiders!!!_

Every inch of my legs were now covered by the little creatures, and I could see where one had bit me. Through the ripped hole in my pants, the skin around the bite was swelling and distorting into a sickening purple, and pus began to spill out instead of blood. Soon, multiple pricks were felt all over my legs as the spiders grew restless with my treatment of them and bit me out of pain or frustration or just out of sheer joy. They pushed each other, crawled over one another to bask in my warmth. But the most disgusting thing about it were the corpses. There were dozens of spider bodies laying about on my bed, and almost all of them were dead with smushed bodies and twisted limbs.

I lashed out with my legs and arms and screamed as loud as I could, frightened and sickened by what I just saw. All of the spiders were thrown off of my legs and off of my bed to land on the floor, and I would have been relieved if the sheets didn't get tangled with my thrashing legs, causing me to fall off the bed when I tried to free myself.

I hit the floor with a loud *THUD* and hit my elbow on the hard floor with a loud cry. Loud crunches beneath my body brought whatever I had eaten earlier back up my throat, and I struggled to keep whatever it was down while also trying to relieve the pain shooting up and down my arm. A loud yell sounded throughout the room —probably Harriet— but I didn't care about that. What I cared about was the pain, encircling my arm and legs in an array of damaged nerves firing off signals of burning pain.

"Thomas!" Warm arms wrapped around me, and I jerked away from Janson, staring frightfully up at his face. But it wasn't his face when I looked up. It was Harriet's face; she was startled and unnerved by my reactions. Shame for interrupting her peaceful sleep wormed its way into my system, and it was hard to keep all of my emotional chaos bottled up.

When she shook me, I could hear the tiny bodies breaking and cracking beneath my larger one, and I couldn't keep it in any longer; I began to wail, horrified and rattled by what had happened to me. Clinging onto Harriet's shirt, I buried my face into her shoulder and bawled, and Harriet, the kind soul that she was, allowed me to cry, telling me, "It's not real, Thomas. I'm here, and I'm not leaving you for anything. It's okay, it's not real."

We continued like this for awhile, and my fear ebbed away until there were no more tears left for me to cry with. Hiccuping, I pulled away from Harriet's embrace (so similar to Janson's... yet so different), wiping away the tears that her shirt didn't soak up. "I'm sorry, Harriet." With some hesitation, I lifted my head to look up at Harriet, hoping that she didn't get replaced with Janson smirking at me.

Relief engulfed me when Harriet still hasn't disappeared. But her stormy face scared away some of the relief. "Why do you always apologize, Thomas?" she asked, her voice quivering with restrained anger.

Puzzled, I awaited her explanation, yet none came, for Harriet was waiting for _my_ explanation. Why I would apologize even when there was no reason to.

Vaguely recalling how my friends supported me whenever I had a hallucination, and how sometimes they were tired or going through their own struggles, I blushed with embarrassment and hung my head with shame. When I spoke, my voice quaked and cracked. "You guys have to throw your time away just to help me with something I should be able to do on my own. And you were sleeping so peacefully, but I ruined your wonderful dream and woke you up for no reason and I'm just a burden for you g—!" Harriet cut me off with a hug, squeezing me tightly.

"Why would helping you ever be a burden?" Harriet whispered, right in my ear, and I couldn't help but shake with _some_ kind of emotion. Was it fear? Shame? Or, dare I say... joy?

But how could I be happy about interrupting her sleep? Her wonderful dream, her joyous moment, all because I couldn't handle seeing just a few spiders? The guilt was crashing down on me, for I could recall a few hallucinations when I was in the small hut. Minho would barge into the hut, maybe even Aris or Jorge would come in when I cried, and they would always hug me and comfort me in my time of need. But it was usually during the night, when everyone should be sleeping, and even though they all denied it, I could tell that they had been asleep beforehand.

My legs twitched in agony, and I could feel the pus sliding across my sensitive skin. When I saw all of the swelling bites on my legs as I looked down, I turned my head away from Harriet and threw up all over the blanket and some of the crushed spiders on the floor. Vision blurring, I gagged and coughed, bending over from the irritation in the infected bites.

"Thomas! Tell me what happened!" I could hear the spiders's screeches more clearly than ever. Plugging my ears didn't work, and out of frustration, I screamed while feeling the urge to claw my skin off. The shaking of my shoulders brought me back to reality. Safe, yet harsh, reality. There were no spiders in reality, for they had all died long ago. There was only Harriet in this room with me.

Loosening up, I sank into Harriet's warm embrace, the only connection I had to reality, to the "safe zone." With a small smile, I tilted my head so I could see Harriet's face.

But Janson was there instead, tightening his hold on me so I couldn't escape. "What happened, Thomas? What's wrong?" Harriet's voice was distorted, constantly switching between a kind feminine voice and a cold masculine voice. "Why are you trying to run away?"

"Stop it!" I yelled, hoping that my brain or someone would just _listen_ and stop all of the illusions. But I couldn't escape his arms securely wrapped around my waist, the pleas of both Harriet and Janson interchangeably drilling into my skull.

"Thomas, it's okay! Nothing will hurt you as long as I'm here." Janson was the only one I could hear right now, the only one in this room with me. And that scared me more than any number of spiders trying to crawl over my body.

I managed to push away from the arms trying to keep me down and somehow rolled over the bed as well in one swift move instead of bumping into it. I hoped that Harriet would be sitting down on the other side of the room, but she was gone. Janson was the only one there, frowning, and his eyes flashed with unbridled fury. "Why are you running away from me, Tommy?"

I backed away as Janson moved closer, his hands making a soothing gesture and his facial expression softening after he saw how frightened I was. "It's okay, Thomas. There's no one who can harm you here, not as long as I'm here with you." He closed the distance between me and him a lot faster than I had hoped and expected, catching me off guard when he was right in front of me with his face leaning in to kiss me.

"Stop... I don't want to..." The shark grin regained its rightful place on Janson's face.

"Too late for that." His lips trailed my jawline before slamming into my own, and I shut my eyes to tell myself that this wasn't real. The room's temperature dropped by a few degrees, and the slight cold nipped at my skin. My joints locked together from fear, hoping that this is another delusion.

The taste of his lips stayed even when Janson leaned back, and Janson licked his lips like he wanted more. When he began to come closer, I whimpered. "I don't want to. I don't want you! Leave me alone!"

Enraged, I pushed Janson back, drinking in every moment of his shocked face as he tripped and fell. Then he was standing back up again, his face twisted into one of rage, and he stomped over to my cowering form in the corner of the room. "Trust me, Tommy, that was a bad move," he growled.

He slammed my head into the wall, and I pleaded for him to stop. But he wasn't stopping, he dragged me to the center of the room by my hair, ignoring my pleas and pinned me to the floor. "Keep begging, Tommy," he purred, grabbing my arm and twisting it slowly, letting me feel every bit of pain possible. Soon enough my begging turned into howls of pain as my arm snapped, unable to bear the pressure any longer. "It's like music to my ears."

When he touched my other arm, all I could do was cry, knowing that he wouldn't listen to me even if I did beg. "Why aren't you saying anything?" This time, he broke my arm in one swift motion, and I could hardly whimper after all that screaming and begging from before. "You know that only makes me angrier." Janson tsked as I sobbed, wiping away one stray tear. "I guess we'll have to try a different method, then," he remarked before reaching into a bag. "I wanted to save this, but you always have to make it difficult for yourself. Don't you, Tommy?"

I woke up screaming and sobbing to myself, begging Janson to stop. Minho and Sonya were on either side of the bed, but Minho was the one comforting me. Sonya just stood there not really knowing what to do. Holding on tight, I broke down in Minho's embrace, holding on tightly and praying to the universe that it wouldn't be Janson that I was hugging this time.

"Are you okay, Thomas?" I nodded, keeping my mouth shut. Maybe Minho wouldn't ask about the nightmare if I didn't tell him anything.

My hopes were dashed when Minho cleared his throat in an effort to rid the room of the tension. "What happened this time?" Since I didn't want to talk, I chose not to; however, Minho wasn't going to drop it this time, for he said, "Look, I'm not leaving until you tell me everything that happened, so be a good shank and just tell us."

Sonya's eyes widened with every word that spilled out of Minho's mouth and smacked his head when he finished. "Minho!" Yelping, Minho clutched the top of his head and glowered at Sonya.

"What's the matter with you?! I just want to understand what Thomas is going through for once! This slinthead doesn't even know how much it hurts not to know what my shanks are going through! Aren't I his shank?!"

 _Minho... is suffering because_ I'm _suffering?_ I could feel my whole world shatter right then and there. _But I'm just a burden if I can't get rid of these hallucinations. Besides, Minho would hate me if he knew what I let Janson do._

 _Minho doesn't need to know about_ that _, does he?_

"Look, I want to know, too! But we have to let Thomas decide when to speak with us!"

"That won't happen and you know it! Thomas wouldn't be able to tell us on his own because of his jacked-up way of thinking! He thinks that if he doesn't do anything, it'll disappear on its own! You weren't going to his hut every other night trying to calm him down from another nightmare!"

"Well—!"

"Slim it!" I shouted, instantly silencing both of them. They both wore expressions of shock, and my blood boiled at how spot-on Minho was of him.

 _I'll show him! I'll talk about it, then let's see how well their solution works! I bet you it won't, but I want to see their face whem they realize that it isn't as simple as just "talking" about it!_

I was already shaking and sweating before I even began to talk, and I almosy backed out while I still could. _You can do this; all you need to do is tell them what you saw, and it'll be over._ "I—I don't want to talk about it, but if you really want me to, I will."

 _Yeah, nice going. Give them the decision, see how well it goes for me._

Minho yelled, "I need to know what you keep seeing!" before Sonya could say otherwise.

My heart sank when Sonya didn't say anything even when she still could, for I have to talk now. Sighing, I began the torture of reliving what just happened. "It happened not long after I woke up. There was a cricket that jumped onto my bed, and then it hopped off, so I thought nothing of it."

 _Can I tell them? Can I_ really _tell them about what Janson does to me? Will they even want me anymore?_

"Go on," Minho prompts, dragging me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, sorry." I duck my head and continue to speak without looking at either or their faces, too embarrassed and ashamed to watch their expressions. "That was just the beginning. Then I thought that there were dozens upon dozens of spiders crawling over my legs, biting me and about half of them were already crushed by me rolling around. I kicked them all onto the floor and then I fell onto the floor, and I could hear their cries and the crunches they made when I fell on them..."

A sob escaped me, and I curled up as I remembered how the spiders's legs twisted and broke off when I moved too fast, how the bites swelled up and leaked pus, and the crunches... I shivered in disgust and unconsciously curled up even further. Even Minho had a nauseous face, his face turning green at my description. Sonya actually threw up, heaving what she had eaten for breakfast onto the floor with no regard as to who has to clean it up.

Clearing my throat, I try not to follow Sonya's example as I retell my delusion. "After that, Harriet calmed me down, b-but then, in my eyes, she turned into Janson." Already Minho and Sonya had a sour expression plastered on their faces. Here I realized that Harriet was gone, perhaps she had been part of my delusion all along, but I decided not to mention it. I'd seem to be trying to change the subject, and I didn't want to look like a baby, so I continued.

"Then what happened?" Leaning forward, Sonya and Minho stared at me expectantly, waiting for the answer. Both were intrigued by my story, but I windered for how long until they began to hate me.

There was no way I could describe what Janson did without bursting into tears. Minho would probably scoff, saying something along the lines of, "That's nothing, you're just a big baby," and Sonya would probably look at me with disgust on her face. No, I just couldn't describe what he did. "I-I don't want to describe it. He just b-beat me up and laughed when I tried to r-run away."

Their expressions were ones of doubt. "Stop giving us excuses. We both heard you say 'I don't want to. I don't want you! Leave me alone!'" Blushing madly, I buried my face into my legs and tried not to show how embarrassed I was. "Why did you scream that?" asked Minho, leaning in a bit to grab me if I tried to run away.

"Forg-get that h-happened. I-I don't want t-to talk ab-bout it." Hands grabbed my legs and pushed them down, allowing them to see my flushed face and my eyes brimming with tears.

Minho's harsh glare immediately softened, and, with red eyes, Sonya tried to hold one of my hands and flinched when I did, pulling away. Whispering, Sonya said, "Please just tell us. We want to help you, but we can't if you won't tell us what's wrong. We'll do _anything_ to help you feel better, so please, just tell us what's wrong and we'll fix it."

With a warm glow, both of them smiled at me, and I felt ashamed that I would ever think that they would make fun of me. Returning their smile, I hugged both of them, needing their comfort to keep myself afloat. If I had any tears, they would have streamed down my face, and I heaved dry sobs while I relived through all of Janson's torture.

They both patted my back and whispered soothing words in my ears, reminding me of being in that room all alone, with no one else but Janson. Pushing that memory back, I lived in the moment and soaked in every moment, wishing it would last forever.

With my heart sinking as soon as the moment was over, I was placed in the spotlight again. Despite hating the fact that my friends will now know about Janson's desires, I decided to tell them the truth anyways. Like Minho said, they deserve to know.

"Where was I?" It was a foolish hope to try and stall, but I attempted to anyways. Done talking, Minho looked to Sonya to reply.

Sonya rolled her eyes but responded anyways. "The part about Janson. When Harriet turned into Janson."

"O-Oh, right." Before I began to talk, I cleared my throat a couple of times. "J-Janson was there, a-nd he-he beg-gan to hu-hug me-e t-tight-tly. H-He di-idn't w-want-t me t-to leav-ve h-him." Here I struggled, stuttering at every word and blushing even darker as all of the pieces began to click inside of their heads.

"Th-Then I m-manag-ged to e-escape and-d go-got co-cornered-d by J-Janson. A-and then-en he-he... k-k-ki-ki-ki—!" Stuttering, I couldn't get the last word out and just became a blubbering mess.

"What? What did he do? Just spit it out!" I knew that Minho was just a bit impatient and really cared, but at that moment, I got furious at Minho's impatience.

"HE KISSED ME, OKAY?!" In the blink of an eye, both faces paled as everything clicked together. Why I was so hesitant to talk, why Janson hated them even looking at me, why I flinched every time someone touched me, why I shouted those words when I was delusional. Soon enough, those faces grew red with rage.

"He _kissed_ you?!" I shrank back and cowered in the corner as Sonya and Minho were enraged and infuriated with Janson. "On the lips?!"

"Y-Yeah...?"

Growling, Minho said, "I'll murder that jacked slinthead! I don't care if that was just a hallucination; I'll still kill him for defiling one of my friends!" Sonya hissed in anger and nodded with him, a menacing aura radiating off of them.

"U-Umm..." For some reason, my confidence grew enough that I actually wanted to say something, if only to finally get the weight off of my chest. Both swiveled their heads towards me, their eyes lit up with fury, and I, being the small coward that I was, became quiet and curled up. They stared at me, waiting for me to speak up. Burying my face, I muttered, "This wasn't the first time this happened." Honestly, I didn't expect them to hear it; I must have spoken too loudly, though, for their glares intensified.

"WHAT!?!" They weren't glaring at _me_ , I knew this, but I couldn't help but think that they hated me right now. I mean, why wouldn't they? After all, I was kissing the enemy and dreaming about it, too. But they can see that I am terrified of him, right? Or is it buried underneath the fact that I was making out with _Janson_ of all people?

"Well? You said this wasn't the first time!" Minho half-yelled, trying to keep his voice down. Flinching, I tried my best to stay confident, but it all seemed to have been washed away within that single moment. "So when did he first kiss you?!"

"H-He... I can't t-talk ab-bout it. M-Maybe to-tomorro-ow?" Stuttering was like second-nature to me now, for Minho and Sonya scared me with how livid they were. I couldn't tell them about everything else he did in my dreams.

"I can't imagine what he would have to do to you that would give you these hallucinations." Puzzled, Sonya's statement made zero sense to me before I realized that they thought that the first kiss he had given me was a hallucination. I pretended that it was a delusion so that I wouldn't accidentally harm someone that even looked at me funnily.

Unfortunately, they could read me like a book, and Minho knew, without any delay, that I was hiding something. "Thomas, why would you possibly hide anything from us now? We already know what Janson did in your hallucination, so there's no need to hide anything from us, right?" _But if I told you that he actually_ did _kiss me in real life, you probably wouldn't even think rationally. You'd kill him the moment you saw him if you could even get past all of the soldiers._

"There's nothing wrong!" Sonya gave me a "Really?" look while Minho crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Really! Janson totally didn't torture me at all in my dream, honest!"

Unfortunately for me, no matter what I said, Minho and Sonya just got more riled up. Honestly, what did I even say to make them like this?! Still, the fact that they didn't reject me brought a warmth to my heart that even Janson couldn't take away.

O~O [...]

After a long and almost violent talk with one of the doctors, we finally persuaded him to let me out of my room and downstairs to breakfast. But I had to have some support while walking around (my legs couldn't support me on my own anymore no matter what), I had to come back up immediately after, and there were to be no more visitors at all that day. The thought of not seeing my friends had my heart plummeting down, but then the thought of talking to _all_ of my friends for breakfast brought my heart back up again.

What I had imagined while walking through the hallways was a bit different than what really happened; I thought Minho and Sonya would talk to me the entire way down and we'd be _so_ happy, but Minho and Sonya decided that they were going to scare the crap out of everyone by storming through the hallways with me apologizing for their actions. If I was some random stranger walking through the halls, I would have wet my pants by the way Minho and Sonya glowered at everyone. In fact, some actually did wet their pants, and the smell of urine drifted through the halls by the time we got to the dining room of this facility. Chatter never ceased to exist, and the warm lighting gave the place a cozy feeling. Minho and Sonya had to ruin it by being angry, but I didn't blame them for being so mad, so I let it slide this time.

There was a crowd of people waiting in line, and since Minho and Sonya demanded that I go sit down, I figured that I should soak in as much of the safe, comfy atmosphere as I could before the other two could spoil it for me. So I immediately zipped over to the table where all of our friends are with Minho helping me walk over, but the atmosphere was darker and heavier than everywhere else. People bowed their heads to my shanks before scurrying somewhere else, and everyone there was wearing black. Even the tablecloth was black, and there were candles lit even though there were lights overhead. With a bad feeling, I sat down in one of the empty chair seats near Brenda.

At once, everyone's head snapped up to stare at me with red-rimmed eyes and dark circles, as if they all suddenly turned into insomniacs while I was gone. It was so quiet that you could hear a piece of egg drop onto the hard floor. Aris was the first to speak, sitting across from where I was. "Thomas?"

As if that one word had let the floodgates go loose, everyone began to crowd around me, fussing over my crumpled clothing and my messy hair, pulling me over to sit by them and just trying to spark a conversation. Bodies were pressed up against me, and _I couldn't breathe_. I was slowly suffocating in the mass of my friends, each wanting to talk with me, and the lights seemed to flicker, making the mass seem all that more crazy and mad. Everyone was clawing at my clothes, wishing for me to pay attention to every last one of them at the same time, and I felt as if I was an elastic band; I was being stretched too far, and I was about to snap and break in the process.

"Are you _cranks_?! Stop acting insane and _sit down_!" For once, I was relieved to hear Minho's voice echo over the crowd encircling me. They all groaned and muttered curses directed to no one in particular, but each went back to their own seat and began to eat once more, glancing over at me as discreetly as they could.

As if she was waiting to do this, Brenda checked out my outfit and nodded her head with satisfaction. "You look good in that suit. Just need to fix... everything else." A blush dusted my cheeks a bright pink, and I cast my eyes onto the plate that Sonya had placed in front of me with a wink.

The suit that I was wearing was completely black, as if I was mourning someone. Even the food we ate seemed to be comfort foods than anything, for Minho (once he sat down) was eating samgyeopsal or grilled pork belly. When he was younger, his mom used to cook it whenever something upset Minho as some sort of comfort food, and even when he left, she would always send some over to him with a small note written with love and care and all things sweet.

"Would you like some?" Watching how Minho would wrap the cooked veggies and pieces of pork in lettuce leaves with tongs and scissors, I quickly declined. It seemed to take some sort of skill to be able to eat, one that I, quite frankly, lacked.

Minho shrugged and chewed the delicacy he had built, and his gloomy face lit up from just the taste. My stomach growled at me, feeling like a large, black hole, and I just sighed before taking tiny bites of the lasagna. Eyes closed, I silently enjoyed the meal while taking note of what others had been eating and saying.

Brenda was sitting on my left, savoring some kind of meaty stew (she later told me it was called barbacoa) and conversing with Jorge seated across from her. Jorge was eating what I recognized as the most classic guacamole you could find nowadays, if you found some at all. Honestly, I couldn't believe how these people could make such intricate food here. Where did they get all of the supplies and food? How were they even able to provide for all of these people when I had seen a dust storm just moments after I had woken up? Or was that just part of my dream as well?

Anyways, continuing down the line, I could just barely make out Gally's meal, some kind of pudding, but that was the last meal that I could see before it became a mass of food. However, there was one thing in common between all of these meals that I could tell; they were all meant to comfort someone. Why, I didn't know. But I did have some sort of idea as to why; Vince wasn't seated at the table. Something had happened to Vince, and I probably wouldn't like it.

"Minho?" He hummed in response, and I took in a mental breath before I asked my question. "Where's Vince? Shouldn't he be eating with us?"

At once, Minho stopped, some of his wrapped-up samgyeopsal landing on his plate from the long pause. Tearing up, Minho sniffled and glanced over at me. After he had his fill, Minho glowered at his meal and seemed to contemplate whether or not he would tell me. Once he made his decision, Minho looked back up at me again and said, "Vince is _dead_."

 **And that's it! Hope you all enjoyed what I wrote. I even made it longer to compensate for taking so long. Sorry!**

 **Feel free to tell me what you think! I enjoy reading your reviews. After all, I'm too scared to show my sisters what I wrote. They'd just laugh at me.**

 **See y'all in the next chapter/story!**


	18. Just Taking Back What’s Mine

**Hello there! Nice to see you all again! This took _forever_ , but I finally managed to post this. I use too many exclamation marks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this as much as I do.**

 **Anyways, onto the story!**

"He's...dead?" _It isn't real, it's just another hallucination, right? The real Minho would wake me up and Vince would be there, too. And everyone would be happy and I would be, too. We'd all finally find our paradise._

But there wasn't anything telling me that it was another delusion. No one was shaking me awake, calming me down and comforting me. Minho had never been more grim than he was now, even in the Maze, and there was nothing trying to kill me or spook me. No Janson, no spiders, nothing.

Vince was actually gone.

Tears sprung into existence and poured down my cheeks. Vince would never get to see his happy ending. He would never get to experience being free once more. All he got in the end was death. And it was all my fault.

 _At least he'll see Mary._

More silent than a grave, Minho stared down at his plate, lost in thought. The background chatter and the joyous attitude everyone else had felt _wrong_. How could people be so happy when Vince died?

 _They didn't know Vince. Why should they cry over someone they hardly ever knew?_

Something began to twist inside, suffocating me and bringing black dots into my vision. I needed some quiet, somewhere I could hear myself think. Somewhere that didn't remind me of the last time I saw Vince.

 _I didn't even get to speak to him before he died._

While I got out of my seat, Minho and Sonya both simultaneously got up and helped me stand. Minho muttered under his breath, "Man, I wish we had gotten that wheelchair for Thomas." Then, directed to me, Minho said, "So, where are you trying to go?"

"The bathroom," I whispered, face flushed from embarrassment. Sonya excused herself after hearing what I had said, sitting back down with everyone else. All of them, though mourning over Vince, still made a point to say goodbye to me and Minho.

"Hey, Thomas?" Minho asked out of the blue.

"Yeah?"

Minho hesitated, thinking about how to ask his question. "You can tell me anything, right?"

Guilt stabbed me through the heart when I said, "Yeah," knowing that I wouldn't be able to really tell him everything.

"Did Janson say anything to you? Anything at all?"

How could I respond to that? "Yeah, of course. I mean, what else does he do?" Minho snorted and his shoulders sag a bit. He was less tense than before.

We reached the bathroom, where Minho stopped. "Hey, do you hear that?" Cautiously listening, I heard the sound of tap water suddenly turning on, slowly getting louder. And where there's water running...

"There's 4," I whisper, so low that not even Minho could hear me. I push the door open to see that all of the sinks are running, but there's nobody in here.

"There! That's where the sound is coming from." Minho points to the grate, and now I realize that Minho wasn't talking about the running sinks, but rather the sounds from above.

Rats (hopefully rats) scurried through the vents above us, and large ones at that. If I concentrated enough, it sounded a bit more like 15...

But why would 15 ever be roaming about in the vents of this building?

"It's just rats, Minho," I assured, holding onto the sinks for support. "It's not like something's going to jump out and attack us."

He was silent for a moment, listening to the scratching and thumps from above. At last Minho relented, saying, "I guess you're right. Janson is way too big for those vents." We both nervously laughed at that joke.

Right then there was an ominous moan coming from the vent grate up above, giving Minho —who was still under the grate— enough of a warning to zip on over to the sinks by me before something crashed through the thin metal cover. "Ugh, 15!" 4 cried out, fury engraved on every part of her body (especially her face). She rose up onto her own feet, dusting off her shirt, and muttered, "I'm going to kill that little fu—uhh..." At last, she caught sight of me and stood there with a stare, which Minho copied.

"What are you doing here?! In the girls's bathroom?!" To answer her question, I pointed at the urinals and hoped that I wouldn't have to actually answer her. Her head slowly turned to see the urinals (thankfully clean) against the wall, and 4's jaw hit the floor. " _I'm_ in the wrong bathroom?!"

Screaming furiously, 4 threw a tantrum and slashed down some of the walls that seperated one urinal from another. She screeched, "I'm going to kill that sorry excuse of a human being!" A furious storm in the shape of a child slammed the door against the wall and marched forward in a cold, controlled, calculated rage. "15! Get back here, you piece of cow manure!" She ripped a grate right out of the wall and climbed inside, replacing the grate before anyone else could see what she had done. I could still hear her in my head even after I had left the bathroom.

Too spooked to do anything else but run back to my safe room, we both rushed through the halls and double-checked every hallway before daring to venture out. Who knows where 4 could possibly be at any moment? Every bump, every creak, every curse could be 4 just waiting to lash out at anything.

Finally, I could see the door that leads to my room. But I stopped just short of entering. I was paralyzed, frozen stiff with apprehension. Why?

Because the door was ajar, and through the tiny crack sand blew out into the hallway. The door had been locked behind us, and the window could not be opened. Really, the only way sand could be blowing in is if someone broke the solid wall of glass that, for lack of a better word, was called a window even though it could not be opened. I could think of only one person who would be desperate enough to break through the solid glass: Janson.

Sand continued to drift into the hallway from the small crack until the door slammed shut, making me jump out of fear. Looking over at Minho for reassurance every so often, we crept closer to the door, expecting a scare with every breath.

But when I opened the door, no one was there. The window had been shattered (like I had already thought), allowing the sand from the storm beginning once more to seep into the room. Now that the previous sand storm ceased to exist, I could see crowded buildings, barren streets, and crooked lamps littered everywhere. Past all of that were mountains looming over this tiny city, and on top of the walls, there were huge guns powered off and large bergs humming with energy. Even from all the way over here, I could hear the engines buzzing and the soldiers yelling orders.

"Oh, they've been there for about two weeks now," Minho hissed, glowering at the bergs. "Ever since you came back they've been preparing for something. I'm pretty sure we all know why." I stopped listening after that, though, for there was a small green box with a red ribbon tied around it, and a folded piece of scrap paper hanging off of it. Plucking the paper off of the ribbon, I read the paper with none of my questions answered.

 _(Hey, Thomas! I didn't mean to break the window, but there was really no other way in. Hopefully you won't get blamed._

 _Anyways, someone wanted to give you a little present earlier, but you were gone, so I had to wait until you were back to leave it here. Sorry I couldn't be there to tell you in person, but I didn't want to see the look on your face when you saw what he left you._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Amanda)_

Dread lingered in the back of my throat. What could possibly be in the present that Amanda didn't want to see? No matter how many times I tried to answer that question, the answer always amounted to nothing good. There was also a note that said, "Happy Birthday, Tommy."

"Hey, what do you have there?" Minho asked, cruching down beside me to lookat the present. "Woah, who's Amanda? Why did she bring a present? And why did Janson even give you a present? It can't be anything good," Minho scoffed. He crumpled up the note and threw it behind him, not really caring where it ended up.

However, I trusted Amanda more so than Janson, so if _she_ had left the present here, then there was no way I wouldn't open it. After all, Amanda could get hurt if I didn't, and I couldn't bear to see her die a second time. With a sense of dread, I neatly untied the ribbon (I was not going to act like a barbarian) and lifted the lid of the box, expecting something horrifying and grotesque. But I couldn't have imagined this.

There was a _head_ , a bloody head _inside of the box_. And what's worse was that I recognized whose head it was: it was Vince's head, face struck with horror before death swiftly stole him from this world.

Screaming, I dropped the box and backed away, tripping over my own feet and falling to the floor. Vince's head was _right there_ , merely a foot away from me, and I sickeningly wondered if this was my "punishment" for running away. For hiding from Janson for about a week, for successfully escaping Janson's grasp for even a second.

Minho screamed, his hands covering his mouth in shock. Holding his stomach, Minho rushed over to the bathroom and vomited into the sink. I was one second away from following Minho's example.

I tried to breathe properly and calm down. But Vince's expression, his face, the fact that his head was _right there_ , wouldn't leave me alone.

The soldiers still yelled at each other, and the thunderous footsteps underneath told me that people finally realized what was happening. Nobody had heard our screams, nor would I call for them. I didn't have the voice or the energy to do that.

Over the yelling and the humming and the screaming of the civilians below, one word managed to slip through. A word managed to be heard over everything else, one that sent a chill down my spine.

"Fire!"

 _What? What do they mean by that?_

I soon found out, for the ground began to shake and bangs filled the silence as the soldiers yelled once more. Now I realized what they had been yelling. They had been yelling out orders to blow up the city. To destroy it bit by bit until the citizens surrendered.

Or until I surrendered.

I grit my teeth and snarled, though it was quickly drowned out by the sounds of explosions and crumbling buildings. Janson planned this whole thing, made it so that I would have to come out and face him. Otherwise, my friends could get hurt or end up like...

Bending over, the little food that I had eaten was barfed onto the floor for the second time that day. Shutting my eyes, I shuffled along the floor, trying to feel for the lid without having to look at Vince's head. The familiar smell of rotting eggs and fish wafted through the air as my hands sifted through the dust and sand.

To my relief, I quickly found the lid and closed it more violently than I would have liked. The odor overwhelmed my senses, and my eyes began to water from the strong smell and the memory of Vince's head frozen in the midst of a scream or a shout.

Another explosion rocked the ground, throwing my balance off a bit. I had to leave. I could die if I stayed in one place for too long.

Then I paused. _Janson wouldn't just begin to destroy a city in with the chance that I may get killed by the explosives and the crumbling buildings. I'm too valuable for that._ Even just thinking about being valuable to anyone brought shivers down my spine. _So why...?_

Then I understood why Janson was able to command the troops without any hesitation or worry. The only way Janson would attack this city was if he knew where I was at all times. And the only way to do that was to either kidnap me before he started bombing the city... Or implant a tracking device on me right before you start shooting.

Where would such a device be? There wasn't anything on me or on Minho. Well, they waited until after the box had opened. Maybe he had a trigger that would set off a little alarm if the lid had been taken off? Seemed pretty likely.

And if there was an alarm inside the box, then Janson knew where I was. He would be coming for me. "Minho!" I yelled. "We have to go, now!" I threw open the door, running straight into 9. The lights were flickering, and 9 was breathing heavily. Sweat shone on his bare skin, and his clothes were slightly damp. "Thomas... 5..." He promptly collapsed right in front of me and gasped for air like a fish out of water. _He would have made a terrible Runner._

One of the grates flew across the hallway and something pale crawled out of the vent. "Minho!" I yelled, stumbling away from the creature. I couldn't run by myself even if my instincts kicked in. The pale thing in front of me hissed and snarled, baring their sharpened teeth, razor claws, and elongated tongue. My eyes widened when I recognized what it was. It was what had attacked 15 when we were all eating. 9 made a small gasp and hid behind my larger frame, peeking out to watch the thing in horror. It was 5, ready to slice up another arm. Not only that, but water had begun to seep through the cracks in the wall, and I could hear 1 humming his song somewhere in the maze of halls behind 5, getting closer.

The lights flickered even further, and some of the lights up ahead exploded in a beautiful array of sparks and glass as the ground continued to shake. "Thomas, you have to leave!" said 9, hiding behind me while he said that. I snorted at his "advice," but I kept a close eye on the humanoid creature in front of us. While ignoring the fact that it was naked, I studied its every move and noted that it had an injury in its stomach which I could use to my advantage if I was close enough. I could hear Minho moving around inside the room, getting closer to the door. I had to wait until he came out in order to run.

 _Didn't 15 mention once that 5 usually caused the lights to flicker?_ 9 seemed to know this creature rather well, and they knew 5 rather well... so could this creature be 5? _If that's the case..._ _Then if I start to bleed, things will end_ badly _for me._

"Thomas?" Minho finally came out, taking in the scene rather fast. "What the hell is that?! Who are these people just randomly appearing?"

"All I know is that we should run," I replied.

"Good that," Minho agreed readily. We both slowly backed away from 5 who was also following our pace, limping across while holding its stomach. 5 was more cautious now, watching instead of wildly attacking. My slice marks throbbed at the sight of 5 again, and I held Minho's hand tightly, not willing to let go.

Then a lightbulb burst right above me, showering me with shards of glass that cut through my clothes and skin. Blood oozed out of the small cuts, and I had only a second before purring was heard from both the thing in front of me. One look and I knew that even 9 was swaying on his feet.

This time, I decided to take 9's words to heart and booked it down the corridor with Minho's help, and both of them roared behind us. Great, I'm getting chased _again_. I cursed in my head. _Why do I always mess up? Because I never listen to anyone around me! I should have listened to 9 earlier._

Shrieks and snarls chased after me, accompanied by the footsteps of the two creatures behind me. Lights violently flickered, alternating between coating the walls with light and allowing darkness to seep in for a brief moment. Sometimes I almost slammed into a wall because the light in front of me shattered, cutting off my source of light for the moment, or the ground threw me off balance because the explosions shook the ground just as I was vulnerable to such things.

The alarms chirped once, twice, and then a third time before immediately being silenced, breaking down without even doing its job. There was no time to lose, so I payed no attention to it and, randomly guessing, chose to turn right at the intersection. But as I turned right, Minho turned left, and without Minho's support I couldn't even stand properly. I had no time to slow down and slammed into one of the wall.

"Thomas!" Minho yelled, attempting to pull me up. An explosion shook the building and his grip slipped. "Why do you have to be so slippery?!" complained Minho, securing his hold and pulling me up the second time.

5 howled in victory, and I watched in horror as 5 got closer and closer to me. 9 was nowhere to be found, though I could still hear him if I paid enough attention. Claws closing in, 5 shoved Minho aside and roared in his face. I shut my eyes tightly and wished for Minho to be safe.

A blast of water shot out from behind me, knocking 5 into a wall. He shrieked, reaching for me again. This time the water pushed 5 all the way down rhe corridor into 9, and both started to whine and whimper. "It's raaaaining... It's pooouuuring..." All the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

"What's going on?" Minho cried, puzzled and scared. "What's happening?" I held on to Minho more for his own comfort than my own. If 1 could make even 5 back down, we stood no chance of escaping.

"Don't look," I whispered. "Close your eyes, okay? Don't open them until I tell you to. Please." Feeling Minho nod against my shoulder, I squeezed tighter before letting go.

"Thomas?" he called out, keeping his eyes closed.

"Don't look," I repeated, turning my gaze back to 1. 5 and 9 ran away when I wasn't looking, so now it was me and the singing corpse. His eye sockets stared back at me, waiting for something. "Do—Do you want something?"

"Follow the water," he rasped, his voice so different from the gentle child singing his lullaby. "It will get you far away from here." Then he shambled over to Minho, touching the hands over his eyes. "Your hands are so warm." If he had any eyelids left, the dead child would have closed his eyes. "You remind me of my big brother," he whispered. Then his head jerked to the side and the moment was gone. His water surged underneath him, and when I blinked he was already turning the corner. For a dead child he sure moved fast.

"You can look now," I told Minho, wrapping my arms around him for support. Now that the terror had faded, I couldn't hold myself up without Minho. None of the words I knew could describe my gratitude towards Minho, always so patient and kind.

While we walked, both of us would spot watery arrows pointing us a certain direction, and though Minho was skeptical, we really had no choice but to follow the arrows. Vibrations still racked the ground as we walked, and in the distance, I could hear the people scream in sorrow and agony. Just like the spiders did when I crushed them. I try to breathe in and out, telling myself that Janson still hasn't found me yet, which could be good or bad. Janson could be trying to get to me, or he could be trying to get to the rest of my friends, and I would be none the wiser.

"Look, the stairs! We made it!" Minho cheered, moving along a bit faster. He scooped me up in his arms to run without having to drag me from behind. Madly blushing, I ducked my head into his shoulder and refused to look up while Minho flew down the stairs. After all this time, he was still a good runner.

Minho put me down and helped me balance on my own two feet. "Let's go, before Janson comes," urged Minho, but I paused. "Thomas?" Suddenly I forgot about how weak I felt. I could feel Janson breathing down my neck, could hear his footsteps over the sound of my heart beating wildly. I could hear him calling out my name. Panicking, I pushed on the glass doors, and they opened up immediately without any resistance at all. "Thomas!" Minho called after me. "Wait!"

A shot rang out from behind, and when I heard Minho scream I whipped around and saw Janson standing behind him, aiming at me. Another shot rang out as I hid behind a large piece of rubble. Startled, I ran for it, hiding randomly behind some larger rocks. But then I froze while hiding behind another rock. What about Minho? As I stood up to run, something dug into my back. A scream was ripped out of my throat as electricity coursed through my entire body, and I could hear someone calling for me. Gloved hands lifted me up as I still shook from the electric shock, and once I was turned over, I saw that it was Janson lifting me off of the ground. A syringe was poked through my skin as painlessly as possible.

In the distance, I could hear Minho weakly call out my name, and I yelled, "Minho!" Janson, surprised by my voice, couldn't stop me from yelling his name out again. "Minho! Let me go! Minho—!"

His hand covered my mouth, but I shouted and screamed until I had no more strength left in me to do so. He began to walk calmy over to wherever he wanted to bring me, and I was helplessly left to dangle limply in his arms. Darkness crept up on my from the corners of my vision, and I knew that Janson must have injected me with some sort of tranquilizer. Except this one was faster than the average tranquilizer.

"Thomas!" This time it was Sonya calling out my name, and I struggled weakly. The storm was raging now, blowing sand everywhere, but Janson paid no mind to that. He kept staring at my face and lips, entranced by something that he saw.

 **-_- [Now we're in Janson's POV for a bit.]**

I watched as Thomas struggled to keep his eyes open and writhed in my hold before his eyes finally closed, fascinated by how beautiful he was in the fading sunlight. Especially his soft pink lips. Though I have to get him out of the storm as soon as possible, perhaps I could make the sun less lethal and find a much more peaceful spot just to see his face like this once more. It certainly wouldn't be a waste if I did make it happen.

Someone was shouting Thomas' name, but that didn't matter. They certainly wouldn't be a threat, due to the new technology my men have developed in such a short time. Really, why didn't we think of this before? It would have been so much easier to keep Thomas if we had used it earlier.

Well, no matter. What's done is done, and there's no changing that. I should stay in the present, where Thomas is.

The fairy tale of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty came to mind as I soaked in Thomas' beauty, stories that my mother had once told me before she was consumed by the Flare. If I remembered the stories correctly, both fell asleep and needed a kiss to wake up again. And since Thomas was knocked out, he wouldn't be waking up for a long time...

Thomas would never know. After all, I would never have to tell him, and nobody else is here. Maybe I could... No, it's too soon. Save it for when we're alone, with no one to interfere with us. Perhaps I could have just a small kiss, enough to satisfy my thirst for now. After all, it's so hard not to do it now, after so long.

Another yell for Thomas to my right, closer than the others. Instead of the feminine voice, it was that Asian kid getting up again. The stupid brat is one of Thomas's friends, and I had shot him barely a minute ago. Well, at least he came back instead of hiding like any other brilliant person. I could take him instead of wasting time to hunt the others, and Thomas was much closer to this kid than any other friend he had... Too close for my liking.

Though he ran around screaming earlier, he was smart enough to stay inside the building and in the shadows. Yet, by the way his hands shook, I could tell that this brat was really angry with me, just enough so he wouldn't go in without a plan but still try to kill me. I couldn't let the prey get away, so I had to goad him somehow.

My eyes drifted back down to Thomas' sleeping form, and I could feel my grin widen.

This would surely lure my prey in.

 **T~T [It was crappy, but I'm still going on! Next is Minho's POV, so get ready and buckle up!]**

Everything hurt. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe without my muscles spasming. Ugh, I hated those guns! The bullets make me feel so vulnerable and helpless because I can't move properly, whether from the pain or the random zaps of electricity; this time, however, I got up a lot faster than any other time before. Maybe it's because I got shocked so many times that I've learned to deal with it?

Then I realized that I had been shot by one of WCKD's guns. And Thomas wasn't with me anymore. "Thomas?!" My voice wasn't as strong anymore, but I continued to yell. "Thomas!"

"Minho!" I heard Thomas shout my name somewhere in the storm, sounding frightened. It had to be Janson that found him; nobody else could frighten Thomas like that. "Minho! Let me go! Minho—!" He suddenly cut off, and fearing the worst, I ran through the debris while attempting to shield my eyes from the sand.

"Thomas!" No more response. I couldn't hear him anymore. "Don't leave me, not again. I don't want to lose you."

The winds had blown away all of the sand and suddenly had no more sand left to blow, so my vision greatly increased in the span of a few moments. Now I could see Janson staring right at me from across the street, somewhat surprised to see me so close. He was carrying an unconscious Thomas in his arms, holding him close to his chest possessively.

Snarling, I bit my lip and hung back, ducking into a building and wishing for all the world that I could help Thomas right at that moment. But I can't just rush in there. Janson still had his gun with him and wouldn't hesitate to shoot me again, and I was still aching all over from the last shock. No, I had to think like Thomas.

Thomas would spring into action, but at least have some sort of plan before doing so. No, that was more of a Vince thing. Thomas would have searched for weaknesses before jumping into action, right? Yeah, that sounds about right. So all I had to do was step back and save him without rushing into things. Yeah, that's easy.

Now, I should—!

Right as my gaze landed on Janson and Thomas again, my jaw hit the ground. My vision turned red, and I could feel my nails dig into my palms hard enough to draw blood.

Janson... He... He was...

 _He was kissing Thomas!_

Janson was lightly kissing Thomas' lips, and the revolting idea of Janson actually doing this long before Thomas ever told us was settling in with horrifying speed. His hand drifted down to the hem of Thomas' shirt and swept across Thomas' skin, and I watched, with wide eyes, as Janson finally ended the kiss just to breathe before leaning over again for another kiss, and from here, I could tell that Janson was probably using his tongue, too.

 _Gross!_

I felt queasy as I watched Janson take advantage of Thomas and now knew why Thomas had so many nightmares and delusions of Janson. He's using Thomas, defiling him, and taking advantage of his vulnerability! And I was none the wiser to any of this.

Hate-filled eyes glared down at Janson through the growing storm, and I could hardly hold myself back any longer. I knew that Janson was probably bribing me, but I couldn't just stand by and allow this sort of thing to happen! Thomas couldn't defend himself from Janson's advances, and Janson just—just—

He _kissed_ Thomas! No one could do that to Thomas! Janson stole something that was never meant to be his, that shouldn't ever be his. Despite how much I hate her, it was supposed to be with Teresa (until Janson killed her off)! How dare he think that he could just waltz on in and ruin Thomas' life before leaving with him like a shucking trophy! All thoughts of planning flew out the window the moment I saw this. He was not going to see another day after this! That was what I thought as I charged for the building.

Janson lifted his head with surprise when he could hear me, but he just gave me that god-awful smirk and stood up, ready to fight. A horrible ringing sounded in my ear, but I just shook it off. If Thomas had been going through far worse, I could handle a bit of ringing. Letting out a war cry, I got closer and closer to Janson—

—and then slammed into a wall that materialized out of nowhere. My head spun as it tried to cope with hitting the wall at full-force, and I could see stars. Then came the all-too-familiar shocks of pain running through my muscles, and Janson was cuffing my arms and legs. Thomas was on the dust-covered ground, sound asleep, and his face was just so relaxed and carefree.

It was nice to see Thomas that happy.

Janson locked the cuffs just as I tried to push off of the ground, losing his balance in the process. I tried to stand up before my ears began to ring again with the horrible pain in my head growing worse. Blood trickled down my neck as I felt myself scream, and the torture seemed to last for hours before it finally stopped.

"You little shit!" A hand yanked on my hair, forcing a grunt out of me, before a fist rammed into my cheek. The pain was almost enough to make me cry out, but I held it in just to prevent Janson from the satisfaction of my screams. "I would kill you, but you just make things much easier for me." His weight left me, which allowed me a moment of relief.

Another wave of jolts and pain hummed with my body after that, which I was used to by now. That fact didn't make the pain go away, but it made it more endurable. The pain was already fading away into a dull background noise. I could hear Janson moving and was livid when I saw Janson leaning down for another kiss. It hurt that I couldn't do anything for Thomas and that Janson took me down with such ease. He had technology on his side, sure, but it still didn't take away the bitterness of being tricked into charging in. I should have known that Janson would have seen me.

After a few revolting moments of Janson practically eating Thomas' mouth, he pulled away and had a strange-yet-familiar look on his face. One that some of the Gladers had given Teresa when they were still in the Maze. A look that had me burying my face into the ground and wishing for death to torture Janson in the cruelest of ways, one that had my stomach rolling over and over with increasing nausea even as the soldiers came for us with a Berg.

A look of lust and desire. Of want. Of...

Love.

And that thought terrified me even more than Janson entering my dark little cell in the Berg with a tiny device and a long whip, grinning like a mad-man.

 **And that's it! Hope you all enjoyed reading this! And it better have been long and good enough for you. If it wasn't, then I don't know what the hell you want me to do.**

 **Also, I had to edit this. It was absolutely horrid before, and I just refined it a bit. So I hope you enjoyed this story so far and continue to read. Though if you made it this far, you'll probably be sticking it out with me.**

 **See y'all in the next chapter/story!**


	19. Settling In

**Sorry, this is going to take forever to finish writing. And the last chapter was absolute crap before I edited it. Still is, but not as bad as before.**

 **And I want to say something here about Janson's personality. I don't know how Janson is supposed to act (even though I've watched the movies, like, more than 10 times), so I just made him how I would see a creepy psycho. So if he is a bit too weird for Janson, I'm very sorry. I don't mean to make Janson not Janson, I just don't know how Janson would be like because Janson never did these things in the movie.**

 **[Never thought I would say Janson that many times in one paragraph in my notes.]**

 **Anyways, what my favorite part of the last chapter was when Minho watched Janson kiss Thomas. I just really loved the thought of Minho being horrified and shocked as Janson kissed Thomas right there in front of him. I could have executed it better, but that's the best it will ever be for that chapter.**

 **Anyways, onto the story!**

 **[I really need to stop using the word anyways. Oh, and it's Minho's POV right now.]**

Darkness surrounded me on all sides, crushing me in its attempts to smother the lingering flames of the one candle I had been given. The hums of the engines had been silenced and left me to wonder if they would let me out now. Most likely infected cuts and bruises littered my body, specifically my back, and dully throbbed with a numbed pain. There was no light or day in this tiny cell, no passage of time. The only way I even knew time passed was when Janson came to visit his little guest.

Well, one of them. Thomas was held somewhere else (obviously), and I wondered what Janson was doing to him right now. Was Thomas awake now? Did Janson ever do anything more... drastic once he was alone with Thomas, or is he waiting for the "right moment" to do _it_?

The thought of Janson ever doing _that_ with anyone made my body shudder as much as it could without irritating my old wounds. Janson really didn't let up on the whip, even if I did what he ordered me to do. Whether it was to grovel at his feet or sit in a painful position for a long period of time or simply to just stay silent, Janson was never satisfied with how I did things and whipped me anyways. He even whipped me without being provoked. But he never killed me. He'll probably come get me checked out just to make sure I don't leave early.

How else would Janson keep Thomas obediantly by his side?

The metal door creaked open, and I flinched when the lights turned on with a click, revealing the room to be even more of a mess than usual. Filthy and in desperate need of a shower, my room was covered with dirt and the corner at the far end made everything in this room smell like urine and poop. Noses wrinkled, a duo scurried about to rush me out of the room, not even caring about my wounds. Not until they began to open up and bleed again.

"Ugh, again! Seriously, stop making our job harder." I didn't bother to fight back against them. They were just trying to wash me and make me clean enough to face Janson without smelling like I took a shit in my pants and didn't change for 11 days straight. I didn't do that (for 11 days), but I think you got the general idea.

For them, if they mess up and don't clean me, Janson will cut all of their heads off. The only reason why Janson would even bother to have me clean is because he doesn't want to torture me while my smell makes his gut churn. It would just ruin the "fun" for him.

People rushed me over to a flawlessly white bathroom with beautiful decorations engraved into the large bathtub and the sink. A male with streaks of white in his dark red hair plugs the bathtub and fills it up with what I knew would be, at best, lukewarm water. He turns to me and orders me to, "Undress. Now."

Remembering what happened when I didn't listen to them, I quickly undressed and glared at everyone around me. The man just sighed and washed me once I was in the bathtub, carefully trying not to irritate my bleeding wounds any further. The water was slowly taking on a red tint, and the man tsked when his hand was covered with my blood. "Who allowed his wounds to open up again?"

The two that practically dragged me here tentatively raised their hands, but nobody other than the man dared to glare at those two. "Well, I'm sure you'll want to tell Dr. Crawford yourselves about why you needed to let his wounds get infected and open up again." After they were scared klunkless, the man finished washing and drying me off.

But there were no clothes left out for me. "Where...?" In the doorway, a black female doctor suddenly stood there in silence, observing my wounds from a distance before frowning and turning to the man next to me. She seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I don't know why.

"Why are his wounds infected?" He pointed to the two from earlier, and they quivered underneath her deadly glare. The doctor was a quiet lethal storm, waiting for the right chance to destroy as much and as quickly as possible. She asked them, "And why are his wounds infected? Why didn't you call me over when Janson tortured him again?" The two were both men, and it would have been hilarious to see them cower from a woman shorter than both of them if she didn't scare me as well. Nothing came out of their mouths, and the doctor nodded her head. "Good. You understand your mistakes if you aren't scrambling for excuses."

She faced the soldiers that had arrived with her and ordered, "Send them to Varien, please. But tell her not to punish them too badly." They both nodded and dragged the now-screaming men out of the room, and nobody stopped their jobs to even just glance at them. Though their faces were pretty pale now.

"Minho, right?" I nodded at the woman, and she gave me a friendly smile. "Dr. Crawford, pleasure to meet you. Did somebody bring the gauzes and antibiotic cream I had asked for?"

I was forced to sit on a stool and allow Dr. Crawford to treat my infected wounds by applying the cream on the cuts before wrapping it with gauze. "I'll need to change the gauzes every four hours, but you should be good for now. Get him some loose clothing, alright?" Everyone else (about 4 people) nodded and began to dress me with the most baggiest clothing they could find that would still fit me.

Once I was dressed in a baggy black t-shirt with the words "Property of WCKD" in white lettering on the back of it along with some black pants that also had those words written on the sides, Dr. Crawford shooed everyone away and led me outside with her guards there to protect her (and possibly me) from any possible threats. We exited the Berg only to be met with multiple other Bergs powered off with mechanics running about between them and a high ceiling showering us with bright lights. "Woah." I would have said more about the room, but that was about as much that would come out of my mouth.

That didn't stop me from asking questions. "Where are we? Where's Thomas? Is he okay? What—?" Glowering, the guards turned on their guns as a warning for me to shut my mouth.

Dr. Crawford was a bit more forgiving. "It's okay. He's just confused." The guards grumbled, but they lowered their guns anyways. Sighing with relief, I couldn't help but feel grateful for Dr. Crawford. "We're in the hangar for our Bergs in the WCKD compound, though where exactly on Earth we are I don't know." The guards shot her a shocked look, but she waved it off and smiled at them. "Don't worry, he and his friends probably already know where we are, there's no point in hiding it." True. I already knew we were at WCKD, and my friends would be able to easily guess where we are without any hesitation. Where else would we be if we were kidnapped by Janson?

But what if Janson killed them all? What then?

"Anyways, Thomas is where he's supposed to be for the collection of the Cure." That wasn't very reassuring or descriptive, but I wasn't allowed to ask any more questions because the guards apparently didn't like that and would probably shoot me even if Dr. Crawford said otherwise. "He's physically and mentally fine, so there's no need to worry about him."

"He's not fine," I grumbled, disregarding the soldiers glaring at me with their whining guns for just a single moment. "Not while he's here, anyways."

Looking up, I swore that Dr. Crawford had given me a look of understanding and pity. At first, I thought that the pity was directed at me and was (rightfully) angered by that thought. Why would she pity me?! I'm not the one she should pity! "Agreed." That was all Dr. Crawford said for the remainder of the trip to wherever we were going. However, Dr. Crawford had agreed with me that Thomas was not fine, and that was all I needed.

The look of pity wasn't meant for me. It was meant for Thomas. She felt sorry for _Thomas_ , not me. I felt guilty for thinking that people would pity me instead of Thomas.

After all, for her to feel sorry for Thomas, he must be going through something awful right now.

T~T [Sorry, that was awful. I didn't mean for that to be so crappy, but it is what it is. Now it's going to be Thomas' POV. Also, if I ever do have a sex scene, I'll let you know to skip the horrors of my terrible writing.]

Waking up in some fancy room with new clothes on and being clean for once would give anyone a heart attack since someone had washed and changed you when you were asleep. Knowing that you had been kidnapped by someone that wants to kiss and possibly do more with you and was probably the one that washed and changed you made it even more terrifying. And realizing that you had been locked in their bedroom to wait for them to return could literally kill someone from the panic and shock.

[I think you get the point now.]

So when I woke up _in Janson's bed_ , knowing that he wouldn't give up the chance to wash me himself by how he acts towards me, you better expect that I would feel dizzy and woozy. Thankfully, I didn't die or faint; unfortunately, I couldn't stop myself from vomiting on the floor. The aftertaste of the vomit just made me more nauseous, so I threw up once more, leaving my stomach an empty, clawing thing inside of me.

Feeling a pressure in my skull increase, I decided that washing my face _might_ help (though it was really a stretch to think that, I had nothing else to do and was desperate to get rid of it) and entered the bathroom after testing the door that led to the hallway (it was obviously locked, but I had to try). But what greeted me there was something that made me think I was having another hallucination (as if being where I was now wasn't enough to make me believe that).

The first thing I noticed was the collar. It was wrapped around my neck, transparent with my name engraved into the metal piece hanging off of it, and it was so light that I didn't even know it was there until I saw my reflection. All it had was a small clasp that Janson could probably undo with ease, yet for me, it was impossible.

But that wasn't what horrified me. Well, it did, but that's not the _only_ thing that horrified me.

In my reflection, I could see hickeys dotting my body from the neck all the way down to the collarbone. There were no other hickeys on me (trust me, I checked), but it still shook me down to my core that Janson could do those things while I was sleeping. That he washed, changed, and kissed me when I wasn't able to defend myself. I was sort of glad that Janson had locked me up in his room. Nobody would enter his room, which meant that no one would see the hickeys.

What would I do if Janson decided to drag me out of his room? There would be no way to hide the hickeys, no way to cover his marks...

Maybe that's what Janson wants. To show me that I could never be free of him, that he would always own me. And I would never have the power to fight back against Janson, for how could one teenager fight against a person/leader/scientist(?) with all the technology at his fingertips?

Without my friends, I am nothing but a teenage boy with no skills to add to his name except running fast for long periods of time. Well, before I got sick, anyways. But what good does that do for me when I'm locked up in a room that doesn't allow for that? It helped me in the Maze, but that was because I had to run if I wanted to survive.

And then I noticed a razor, its blades glistening under the bright bathroom lights. I could slit my wrists, but then my friends would have to suffer for that. No, I couldn't kill myself. Even though I loathed the thought of being with Janson, I couldn't deny the fact that he had been curing people of the Flare, even if it was only for his gain. I can't be so selfish as to think only of what I'm going through. Maybe I could pretent to slit my wrist, get Janson panicked enough that I could at least injure him and get away? I'd have to check out the rest of the building first and know where my friends were being held, but it might work.

As I rolled the idea around and around in my head, a door creaked outside the bathroom. Any footsteps I could have heard had been hushed by the lush carpet that was on Janson's room's floor. "Tommy?" As Janson called out for me, I grit my teeth and eyed the room for anything more deadly than a flimsy razor that I quickly tucked away in one of the bathroom's multiple drawers.

Everything easly removable had been locked into the drawers as far as I could see (including the shower head, any other razors, and any toothbrushes), and the bathroom door didn't have a lock. Which meant that Janson could just waltz into here even if I was taking a shower or using the toilet. Privacy apparently wasn't a thing to Janson.

"Thomas?!" His voice was getting more frantic when he couldn't find me in the room. There was only a few dull thumps before the door swung open, revealing a disheveled Janson staring at me with wide eyes. The moment his eyes met mine, all the tension in his body subsided, and his shoulders slumped with relief. With a shake of his head, Janson sighed, "You scared me, Tommy." Eyes trailing down, Janson's eyes were locked onto my neck, staring at either the hickeys or the collar. Probably the former.

[Oh, by the way, Janson called out "Thomas" that second time because somebody might hear him call out for Thomas, and he thinks it's a nickname that should be only between himself and Thomas. But once he found Thomas, he called him Tommy because nobody else would be able to hear them. After all, he was talking much more quietly, and they were in the bathroom, not right by his bedroom door. Just needed to point that out so you understand. When they're in public, Janson says "Thomas"; and when they're in private, Janson says "Tommy".]

An urge to strangle Janson where he stood itched at the back of my mind (Only Newt could use that nickname!), but I knew it was pointless. Janson wouldn't be so stupid as to leave himself defenseless when I had no (visible) chains to keep me from attacking him. Though he had forgotten a razor lying on the bathroom counter. And if he didn't, he certainly would if I tried to kill him right now with nothing but my bare hands.

I was brought back when Janson's hand hovered over my neck, tracing one of the hickeys that he had made with a gleam of enchantment in his eyes. "You look so pretty like this..." he muttered, entranced by his twisted marks of possession. Glowering at Janson, I wanted nothing more than to see his head roll.

Just like how he beheaded Vince.

When I met Janson's eyes again, I already knew it was coming before it even happened. It was like clockwork. Janson's eyes would be glazed over, he would lean in for a kiss, and my body would lock up out of the fear of Janson getting so close. The kiss was sweet and tender yet obsessive and brutal at the same time. Only Janson could kiss like that.

His arms wrapped around me as he deepened the kiss, sharing his (unwanted) warmth with me. Slipping through my lips, his slimy tongue began to force my own to dance, leaving nothing untouched. I tried to pull away, but that made Janson tighten his hold on me and growl into the kiss.

Once he (At last!) pulled away, I sucked in a deep breath to prepare for another onslaught of kissing that may or may not happen. Thankfully, he didn't kiss me again this time around, though if I knew Janson, it wouldn't stay like that for long. The only bright side to this was the fact that Janson hadn't done anything too bad to me yet (other than the kisses and hugs).

Suddenly, I was swept off my feet into Janson's (certainly not loving) embrace, and I was not amused when Janson couldn't tear his eyes away from me. He even chuckled at my glares! What, did he think that they were just pouts meant to be laughed off as adorable and sweet?!

[Yes, Thomas. Yes he does.]

"You're so adorable when you glare at me like that." Rolling my eyes, I scoffed at how Janson basically repeated what he so often told me in those little delusions I had of him before that seemed to be more and more like memories than actual illusions, which made his actions all the more terrifying. His smile only grew wider.

While Janson made his way to his sort-of messy bed, he kissed the top of my nose and muttered, "I wish I could show you how much I love you today." At that, I blushed a dark red from the humiliation of being on the receiving end of that sentence. And the person saying that to me was the one person on this planet that I would enjoy killing in cold blood.

The only reason I didn't say murder is because I would have to be slaughtering a human being to use that word.

 **Okay, I couldn't end this chapter any other way without it spiraling down into another chapter altogether, so I had to cut it short before I begin to write a long chapter that never gets posted because I couldn't find a way to end it. There was no Janson POV this time, but that's okay. There definitely will be in the next chapter!**

 **Anyways, I think Janson should give Thomas another nickname. But I don't know what else Janson could call him. What do you think? Should Janson call Thomas things like "love" and "dear," or not?**

 **It won't happen next chapter, but I might make Janson say that. Wait, did I just say I would "make" Janson do something? Wow. Janson might not be in charge after all.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter! See y'all in the next chapter/story!**


	20. Minho’s First Day (With Janson)

**Okay, last time it ended rather weirdly, but if I didn't end it there, you never would have been able to read it. So I'm sorry the last chapter was so weird, but I can't make it any better without pulling my hair out and rewriting the entire chapter. It happens a lot.**

 **This story is a little weird, even to me, so I just want to let you know that this is just going to get weirder. I think. It's hard to tell when you just let your thumbs write whatever it wants as long as it's within a certain parameter.**

 **Anyways, onto the story!**

 **[We're starting out with Janson's POV! Yay! I told you we'd most certainly have Janson's POV in this chapter!**

 **WARNING: THIS ISN'T SERIOUS BUT I'M WRITING IT HERE ANYWAYS JUST IN CASE. Janson is going to give Thomas an extra hickey while he's asleep, and it's awful, so if you don't want to read it, then skip it. Thought I should warn you.]**

I couldn't help but stare at Thomas' face as he slept in my bed. It had taken a while for him to go to sleep with me (he had even insisted on sleeping on the floor in the corner like some dog), but with a small nudge in the right direction (using just a small amount of drugs), he fell asleep in my arms. Underneath the dim lighting of my room ( _our_ room), Thomas' face was so angelic and beautiful that when I let myself drink in his beauty, about an hour had passed before I realized I needed some sleep as well. The only reason that I even remembered that I need sleep too was because my eyes burned from the lack of blinking and rest.

As I moved to cover myself with the sheets, Thomas shivered from the sudden lack of heat and moved closer to me, trying to get the warmth back. Smiling, I whispered, "Just wait a bit longer, Tommy." After I pulled the sheets over most of my body and I had settled in for the night, I wrapped my arms around Thomas and pulled him closer to me.

Instantly, Thomas pressed his body against me and buried his face into my chest, sighing as my warmth kept the cold at bay. Our limbs were tangled with each other, and though I knew that Thomas would definitely freak out when he woke up, I momentarily lifted Thomas's face up so I could give him a quick peck on the lips, which swiftly morphed into a long, deep kiss that I just couldn't stop even after I started to suffocate. Pulling away was getting harder and harder for me to do, and when Thomas wasn't even thinking about fighting back, it made pulling away even more difficult.

In the end, I pulled away to draw in more air with a gasp before leaning in for another kiss. His lips were like honey, so deliciously sweet, and I couldn't help but be captivated by how flawless his features were. Nothing about him was hideous or unattractive, and I didn't want to share this gem I had stumbled upon. And to think that I was going to kill him!

As I (sadly) ended my last kiss with Thomas, I thought about how Thomas was just so special. His fierce personality, his flawless features, even his very blood drew people to him. Everything about Thomas was unique and special, even more so than I had thought when I first saw him. Granted, I had just seen him as another annoying brat, but he still exceeded my expectations.

Perhaps I should thank Teresa. After all, if she didn't figure out about how special Thomas' blood was, then he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't be with me, safe and sound.

Even in the dim lighting, I could see the hickeys I had given him just a few hours ago. My thumb brushed over the darkened skin, and I bit my lip in thought. _Should I...?_ _Why not?_ Apprehensively, I moved down to his neck, kissing right on the collar bone. Thomas whined and squirmed, but he didn't do anything else and settled in again as I began to suck on his skin. I moaned as I sucked on it, savoring his delectable skin, and planted a few kisses on his delicate skin before sucking on it once more.

Fidgeting a bit, Thomas made a small moan as I created another hickey, shuddering a bit as I began to suck on it again. It felt so good to hear those noises that I sucked on his skin a bit longer than I normally would have just to listen to Thomas' small noises as he writhed from my touches.

I would have gladly let it last forever, yet I couldn't do that without giving up sleep; and I really needed sleep for what I had to do tomorrow. Today, actually, since it was 12:30. Letting myself groan in frustration, I allowed Thomas to once again hide his face in my chest and cuddle, wishing for the world to let me just have this moment with Thomas. But something was always in the way, always stopping me from doing what I wanted with Thomas.

Oh well. There's always tomorrow. After all, Thomas is staying in my room. Nobody would be able to take him away from me now.

Movement from Thomas pulled me out of my thoughts, and after Thomas had finished moving, he had rolled over to his other side. Now I was spooning Thomas, with him curled up on his side and giving me even greater access to his neck. It was so hard to resist breathing in his scent, to mark him even more, to just taste him one more time.

 _Perhaps_ , I thought as I lovingly nuzzled Thomas's neck, _I may be a bit_ too _attached to Thomas._

XD [I couldn't stop myself from writing that! Oh, it was absolutely _awful_! I'm so sorry for putting you through that! Anyways, this is a time skip to the morning and Minho's POV!

And yes, I know that I just wasted a chance to get Thomas' POV into this story, but I wrote about 18 chapters' worth of Thomas' POV. Time to give the other characters a chance, right?]

When I first woke up, it was so silent and uneventful and bright that I thought it had all been a nightmare. With Janson kissing Thomas and him whipping me in that dark cell, I hoped that I had just passed out from the heat after trying to find Thomas and it was all just a dream I had made up. But then I saw the meager plate of cold food laying at the foot of the door and immediately knew that it hadn't been a nightmare. It was real.

Hunger tore at my insides, and my stomach grumbled at me for even hesitating to eat it. After all, if Janson even thought about giving me food, he wouldn't poison it or drug it. He would just drug me right from the start, or he would have shot me in the head while I was still defenseless in that cell. The point was that there was no reason to even think about spiking or poisoning the food.

So when I finally got that thought taken care of, I began to eat and immediately wanted to throw up. It tasted disgusting, but since I was all alone in this room, they didn't bring any of my friends to this WCKD building. Therefore, if I don't eat and die of starvation, Thomas won't have anybody other than Janson to talk to. That would drive him insane and break him within a couple of days, and I didn't want to leave Thomas alone with _him_ of all people, so I swallowed down my picky self (Mrs. Beldom had definitely spoiled us by giving us such wonderful food) and since I heard that if you eat slowly you get full faster, I slowly ate the revolting thing they apparently called food.

It didn't take long for me to finish eating, and then I was left to my own devices. Which basically meant I was left to wait for someone to come and force me to do what Janson wants me to do. Whether that means getting tortured or speaking to Thomas or whatever else, I couldn't do a thing about it and absolutely hated the feeling of being helpless.

I couldn't even begin to imagine how Thomas felt when he was alone with Janson. At least I had everyone else there to talk to at almost any given point in time. How does he feel now, when Janson will definitely keep him on a tighter leash and there's only me to talk to? Rather, if he ever gets to talk to me at all, when and how long will we get to see each other? And how put together will Thomas be?

I didn't know if I wanted to get the answers I asked for. But there was nothing else to do but wonder what's happening with the others, what Janson would do to me, if and when the others would be able to rescue us. At least they left me a clock to watch the time tick by.

At 10:45 am, Dr. Crawford entered my room with more cream and gauze for my infected wounds. They were getting better, though it stung almost as bad as being constantly burned in those areas. She undid the somewhat bloody gauzes and wrapped the new ones as best as she could with the limited amount she had brought with her after applying a bit more cream. Amazingly, she managed to use all of the gauze without having to grab more from wherever she's getting them, but she wouldn't answer any of my questions that I had asked her and left without saying a single word to me.

It was amazing how badly you needed human contact once you couldn't talk to anyone.

After twenty one minutes had passed with me doing nothing but laying on my bed and watching the clock, I decided to exercise a bit. I had only meant to exercise for just ten minutes, it turned into me exercising for twenty minutes, then thirty, then an hour, then an hour and a half. Once I decided to rest, I was all sweaty and my injuries definitely opened up by how the gauze began to turn pink.

Every part of my muscles stung, but there was something to it that I couldn't quite define. It was exhilerating to run, and if I closed my eyes, I could imagine that I was back in the Maze, relaxing after running for the entire day and safe from the Grievers. But every time I did that, I couldn't help but open my eyes to search for Newt, and then I would be rooted down to reality. The reality that nothing was simple anymore, that almost everyone from the Maze was dead, and that I was stuck in another trap made by WCKD that I couldn't get out of this time.

2:45 pm, Dr. Crawford was back with more gauze. She seemed determined to help my wounds heal correctly, and she scolded me for reopening the injuries. Honestly, she scared me. But it felt nice to have at least someone to look out for me.

It was when she was leaving that I finally got the guts to ask my only question that time. She wasn't going to answer, so I just said it to at least try to know what Thomas is going through. "How's Thomas doing?"

She didn't reply and closed the door. It harshly clicked behind her.

There was nothing else to do, so I exercised a bit more, now careful not to make my wounds worse. Time flew by, and by the time I took a break, it was already 4:27 pm. So I continued to exercise until Dr. Crawford came back at 6:45 pm. She definitely took note of my sweaty self, but she didn't say anything.

Now certain that she wouldn't respond to anything I said, I just blurted out whatever was on my mind. About what kind of animals I would want to hang out with (that failed miserably; I didn't know any animal names, merely that they used to exist), what I would want to do with my life if I ever did get out, where I would want to go, what I would want to see, how familiar she felt. At that last part, I swore that she paused, but she started to move again so fast that I couldn't tell if she did actually pause or if it was just my imagination.

I told her, "I wonder what Thomas is doing right now. What Janson is doing to him. Do you know?"

There was no harm in asking. After all, it was just a yes or no question, and she wouldn't even answer my questions, so it didn't matter. She quietly left again, quietly closing the door, and that was when I noticed the notes she had been leaving.

They were stuck in the gauze that she had wrapped around my arms, and when I pulled them out, I realised that she had answered almost every single question if I excluded the one I just asked her after she left. I guess she just couldn't talk to me.

She had even answered the one about how Thomas was doing, though it didn't exactly answer my question or inspire hope. It said, _(He hasn't left Janson's room, so I don't know what happened to him, and Janson won't talk about Thomas. Though if he's in Janson's room, I highly doubt he would be having fun.)_

At least she tried to answer it, right?

While I rested from the exercise that I had done that day, I silently fumed. _Why does Janson need to keep Thomas in his room? He certainly had spare rooms for Thomas to stay in. Is he_ sleeping _with Thomas?!_

Every thought just made me more enraged. I could taste blood in my mouth, but I didn't care. What could Janson possibly be doing to Thomas? Nothing good, that's what. He's probably taking advantage of Thomas's vulnerability to do... _those_ things to him!

 _I swear, the next time I see that rat, I'll murder him! I'll tear out his insides and stuff them down his throat!_ When Dr. Crawford came back, her eyes widened as she saw the pure anger I was feeling on my face. But when she saw the note in my hand, she visibly relaxed, already able to tell what I was furious about.

She took the notes I had read away from me, and I knew why. Dr. Crawford obviously wasn't supposed to be telling me anything. She was risking her life to give me information, so she had to get rid of the evidence as quickly as possible.

I waited patiently until she was gone to check my arms. This time there was no note, probably because I didn't ask her any questions. And the only question that I had asked her was one that was already answered by previous answers. She didn't know what Thomas was going through or how he was, though she tried to help me feel better and more informed anyways. And in a way, she did make me feel better.

Because now I knew where Thomas was being kept.

After another four hours of either resting, exercising (running was becoming a favorite past-time of mine now that I wasn't being chased by monsters and had some space to run without being interrupted), and eating the one other meal I had been given (this time with a lot more of the disgusting food), Dr. Crawford was back. She didn't even hesitate, changing the gauze as fast as she could before shoving the paper in my hands to read the one word that she had written before taking it back and rushing out. She seemingly had other places to be, or someone had gotten a bit suspicious.

Either way, that word helped me push back the feeling that I was alone, for I wasn't.

 _(Same.)_ That was what she had written.

She also cared about Thomas. She, too, was a victim of Janson's, and she was furious about what Janson was probably doing to Thomas but couldn't do anything to stop him. Dr. Crawford was also helpless to do anything except help me, and that she was doing vigorously. She wanted to save someone, and that someone was me.

That was what I had gotten from that single word. From her expressions, her actions, her wording. She cared. She wasn't emotionless, she just couldn't show those expressions without the risk of Janson getting suspicious of her.

So when she came back the next time, the first thing I said was, "Thanks. For listening."

And her exhausted yet genuine smile was worth it.

 **And thats where I'm ending this chapter. Sorry it's so short, I just wanted this chapter to end on a happy note, not a sad one. We'll get to Thomas later, don't worry.**

 **Anyways, that was the first day and night of captivity! For Minho, anyways. You already saw Thomas' first day. It was pretty boring.**

 **Poor Thomas! I just realized that he finally woke up only to be put back to sleep with the usage of drugs! But I am not changing a thing. Otherwise I would have to add a whole 'nother chapter, and I ain't doing that.**

 **Also, how I write chapters is by typing a few paragraphs, leaving, and then returning a bit or a lot later. So you'll see my style of writing change a bit in different sections of the chapter. Sorry about that. Also, my style also, for some reason, changed throughout writing this piece of fiction. Also sorry about that.**

 **I hope it's not too distracting for you guys.**

 **Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! See y'all in the next chapter/story!**


	21. Test Chapter

**Okay, so I'm back. Hello. Nice to meet you all. Can the stories I'm reading just upload already? Please?**

 **No? Okay...**

 **Fine. I didn't want you to upload it anyway. (Just joking, I really do want you to upload. Just please upload.)**

 **That wasn't for you readers. Sorry about the last few chapters short length, I just really needed to write it that short to be able to upload it. Sorry about that.**

 **Anyways, let's start this chapter.**

 **[I'm trying a new intro and it just doesn't feel right. Is it just me, or is it very bad? It's bad? Okay. Anyways, we're going to Thomas' POV. Since I didn't get to include his POV past time.]**

 **Day 2:**

Cursing under my breath, I glowered at the hickey Janson had given me while I was asleep with the thought that if I glare at it, it'll go away. I knew this would happen again! But of course, Janson knew that I wouldn't want to sleep with him (I wonder why?) and decided that drugging me was the best way to handle this situation. How is WCKD still functioning with Janson leading this place?

I tugged on the collar of my shirt, hoping that I could hide the hickeys by doing that. No such luck. The collar didn't even hide the ones on my collarbone. Honestly, what was I supposed to do with these hickeys?! I couldn't cover up anything with how the collar drooped all the time.

Sighing at the mirror, I opened the only unlocked drawer in the bathroom to find a toothbrush and toothpaste in there. There was even a booklet about how to brush your teeth properly right next to it. A snort burst out as I picked up the small booklet, flipping through the pages and catching a few snippets of sentences as they flew by. On the last page, there was a picture tutorial about how to clean your toothbrush correctly and incorrectly.

I couldn't help but let out a giggle. Seriously? A booklet about how to brush my own teeth? Yeah, I didn't brush my teeth for the longest time now, but I still knew how to do it. There was no point in having a booklet about what I already know.

After I threw the booklet into the trash can, I brushed my teeth (correctly) and reentered the bedroom. Once I realized that Janson never really spent time in his room and therefore had nothing to do while in his room, I groaned loudly and fell backwards onto Janson's bed. _What can I even_ do _in this room when Janson's gone to pass the time?_

 _At least nothing is ever boring when he's around._

My own thoughts surprised me. Why would I ever _want_ Janson to come back? He's just going to do those weird things to me again...

One of my fingers touched the newest hickey, and I shuddered at the thought of Janson marking me in my sleep. _What can I do about it? Janson holds all of the power. He could force me to sleep for a month and I wouldn't be able to stop him from doing so._

My throat constricted until I could hardly breathe from trying to block my tears at how _powerless_ I was. Slowly, my vision began to swim, and I almost screamed at how useless I was. _What does anybody see in me? I'm weak. I'm stupid. I can't stop anyone from doing anything._

 _I can't even stop myself from crying._

It hurt to try and keep the pain in, but I desperately tried to hide my vulnerability. I didn't want Janson to see me like this. He'd try to "help" me; in reality, however, he'd just be making it worse. By touching me, by pretending to care, by existing.

By making that awful grin of his, smiling as if he couldn't hurt a fly. Like he hadn't beheaded Vince.

A small sob echoed throughout the room, and I stuffed my face into the pillow to muffle the sound of me weeping. My hands gripped the pillow until it was on the verge of tearing, and I could hardly keep myself from ripping it to shreds. Urges to scream tormented me, trying to make those desires a reality despite my attempts to keep it all inside. With all of these thoughts circling my brain, I felt like I was going to explode.

And I was to blame. Everything that happened could have all been avoided if I wasn't so stupid.

I was forced to _sleep_ next to him and didn't even _try_ to fight back! What kind of a friend am I? I slept with Vince's (pretty much everyone's) executioner, and all I could think about was when Janson would come back and end my boredom!

Screaming into the pillow, my body shook with the effort of wailing as loud as I could. The pillow absorbed my tears without any complaint, and since there was nothing else to focus on, my mind pulled up the most awful moments of my life. Where I could have done something to save them.

I shouldn't have stood in the sidelines when Mary died, I shouldn't have let Newt come with me to help save Minho, I shouldn't have run off to see Katy with Sadia. Vince might have still been alive if I had just stayed with him instead of running off. But I did do those things. And nothing could undo them.

Another sob wracked my body as I mourned over those I had lost because of my own stupidity. Especially Chuck. He never got to experience anything outside of the Maze. He never even had a chance to. And it was because I let Chuck take the bullet meant for me.

It wasn't fair! Why did Chuck have to die? I promised him that he'd see his family, that he'd escape the Maze... and I was determined to keep that promise. But I led him to his death while trying to keep my promise.

 _Guess some promises really are meant to be broken._

T~T [Okay, this was absolutely horrible. I really am sorry for this, but I need to skip through the day right up until something interesting happens with Thomas. It would be pretty boring for me to just let you go through the day like that.

We're still in Thomas' POV, by the way. Also, **WARNING: NON-CON...** **STUFF IS JUST, LIKE, SIX PARAGRAPHS UNDERNEATH THIS. MORE LIKE SEVEN OR EIGHT, BUT YOU GET THE IDEA.**

 **AND THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING STUFF LIKE THIS, SO YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED ABOUT THE THINGS YOU'RE GOING TO READ. IT'S GOING TO BE AWFUL, I KNOW. I HAVE TO READ MY AWFUL WRITING BUT BEAR WITH ME. OR JUST SKIP AHEAD.]**

Most of the day had been spent in bed crying my eyes out. I was moody, hid underneath the sheets from the... I don't know who they were, but they brought my meals and set it on the floor before scurrying out the door, and I just moped about the room in general. Every time I entered the bathroom to wash my face again (I cried a lot during the day), my eyes were red from crying and I looked positively awful. And I looked _weak_.

So I would tidy myself up again (though I couldn't do anything about the eyes or the occasional sniffles) and make the bed again, trying to keep myself active somehow. I heard from somewhere when I was younger that staying active helped with grief, though I'm not sure if that's true. All I know is that it distracts me. So I clean the room, try to tidy it up as much as possible, and then, when I get bored, I mess up everything and clean it all up again.

Occasionally, I checked my face in the mirror even if I hadn't been crying. Just to see if the redness in my eyes had faded. Of course, it would have faded if I hadn't been crying every hour or so, and I just knew that Janson would make a fuss over it. Still, I kept visiting the bathroom, hoping and wishing that I wouldn't look _so goddamn weak_.

It was either that or clean all day with perhaps one or two breaks in the day. There really wasn't much to do in this room. It was pretty much torture.

And yes, I had tried to go through the door, multiple times. I even set up an hourly schedule to try and go through the door, but every time I tried to walk towards the door, my body always froze and then walked away despite my intention of walking through it and leaving. So I was stuck here, forced to lie in wait for Janson.

 _I do hope Janson doesn't do anything. He could be out there killing or_ torturing _my friends. That's if he let any of my friends live long enough to kill or torture them now._

When I heard the door slide open again, I had just finished cleaning the room for the fifteenth time that day. (Yeah, I was that bored.) Spinning around, I blinked in surprise as Janson walked in, carrying two bags full of stuff that I couldn't see at the moment with some sort of handcuffs dangling from his belt. He looked at me, and I watched Janson visibly relax at the sight of me. I was hideous (I know because I checked my reflection in the mirror throughout the day), but Janson was staring at me as if I was the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

That thought made me recoil from Janson's reaching hand, disgusted at how weird Janson was being. As if I was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He would have to be insane if he actually thought I had _any_ beauty, for we're both male. Men don't get attracted to other men, right?

And then Janson pulled me back into reality by wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing my unwilling body against his. Instinctively, I arched away from him; however, Janson just raised one of his arms and pushed my upper back closer to him, forcing my back to straighten out. Stopping myself from hissing at him (he could punish the friend that may be here and would just laugh at me), I pushed on Janson's chest and hoped that he would budge, but that was wishful thinking. He was way stronger than me, so he just laughed at my meager attempts to push him away and tightened his hold on me.

"Don't try to leave me, Tommy. It'll end even worse than last time," Janson grinned as he captured my lips in a greedy, possessive kiss.

This time, right after Janson pulled away, I did hiss at him. "Let go of me," I snarled through gritted teeth.

"But why would I do that? I won't get anything out of it." Another growl lurked at the back of my throat, building up slowly but surely when Janson continued to stare at my eyes.

"Have you been crying, Tommy?"

"...No."

The frown that had formed deepened with my response. "Don't lie to me, Tommy; it won't end well. Why have you been crying?"

"Don't pretend like you care. You never cared earlier, and you never will."

With those words, Janson's face fell into shadow. His hold constricted even further, the breath was forced out of me, and his eyes were alit with rage. Slowly suffocating, I thought that Janson was going to kill me for real.

Then he took in a wavering breath, and his hold loosened enough for me to swallow the sweet air once more. "He just doesn't get it," Janson whispered to himself. Then, to me, "I just have to show you my love, then, to make you understand." His eyes gave me the look that sent shudders padding down my spine, and I already knew what was going to happen.

At least, so I thought.

Janson was supposed to kiss me again, and I was supposed to hate him doing that; it's just how things had been whenever I was around Janson. Instead, Janson spun me around and yanked both of my arms behind my back, and I cried out in pain as one of my arms got twisted. Pain shot up my arm with a snap, and it felt like he had torn it off with no mercy. The only thing that had trumped this pain was when that monster sliced into my arm.

"Shh..." One of Janson's hands wiped away the single tear on my cheek that I hadn't noticed, his thumb stroking my jawline in an effort to soothe the pain. "It's alright, Tommy," he cooed in my ear, and I shuddered as his breath tickled my skin. Just breathing at all forced me to flinch from the pain.

I breathed in deeply and shuddered, trying to calm down. Now I wish that Janson never came back.

Gently, his hand released my jaw to wrap the handcuffs around my wrists. Strangely enough, it was comfy and warm, not at all how I remembered it to be. But it still instilled the fear that Janson's going to do something awful, and my breathing quickly sped up to match my racing heart. Wishing with all my heart, I wished that I could be anywhere but here, in this room with Janson.

My wishes were never granted before, and this time was no different. After he sat down on his bed, Janson gently pulled me onto his lap, careful with my smarting arm, and whispered into my ear, "I'll make you feel better, Tommy." Already, I could feel a chill creep up on cat paws, settling into my very bones.

 **[THIS IS WHERE THE *cough* *cough* rape *cough* STARTS.]**

His free hand drifted down to the hem of my pants, easily slipping inside. It dawned on me what Janson wanted, and I freaked out, closing my legs and crying out, "Don't! Stop! I don't want this!" ignoring my arm for the moment.

Janson shoved his legs through mine and moved them apart, forcing my legs to open wide. Then his hand shoved itself into my boxers and wrapped itself around my cock, and my entire body jerked from the sudden contact. Squirming in his grip, I struggled against Janson's arm keeping me still (while being careful about my injured arm), but all it did was humor Janson with my meek attempts. "Relax, Tommy, I'll make you feel better," Janson smirked, knowing that I was helpless and enjoying every second of it.

"Janson, stop!" I cried, wriggling in his hold. "I don't want this!" A few tears slid down my cheeks as I struggled against Janson, and I choked on my own sobs as Janson didn't relent.

Nuzzling my neck, Janson began to stroke me slowly, and not wanting to see what he was doing, I shut my eyes tightly and clenched my teeth, trying to keep the growing noises from ever leaving my mouth. But I couldn't keep myself from flushing with guilt and shame as I began to harden underneath Janson's touches. Once I was hard, Janson pulled away from my member, and I whined from the loss before I could catch myself.

With a small chuckle, Janson dug through a smaller bag on his bed and pulled out something from it, but I couldn't see what it was. "Have some patience, Tommy." Soon his fingers were in my boxers again, but this time he pulled it out for his eyes to take in, and I almost cried out in shock and embarrassment. When Janson had been searching for what I could now see were tissues, I had softened a bit, and Janson had to play with me again to get me hard.

"Janson, stop. Please." I knew he wouldn't listen, but I tried one last time, hoping that by some miracle, Janson would listen to me.

As expected, Janson began to pump me with no regard to my plea. A moan slipped out before I could repress it, and it only grew harder to keep it in when Janson started pumping faster. "Let me hear your pretty sounds, Tommy," he groaned, his erection pressing into me.

Squirming in his lap, I could hardly think past the pleasure and the growing pressure. My body tensed as I got close to the edge, and Janson noticed this. He slowed down and teased me, bringing me up to the edge but never pushing me over it, and I curled my toes and fingers in an effort to stop the humiliating noises from leaving me.

At last, he pushed me over the edge, and black spots crowded the outskirts of my vision as I came with a cry. Even after I came into the tissues Janson had quickly wrapped around my tip, Janson played and teased with my sensitive, soft cock, making my body twitch. "You're so good for me, Tommy, cumming like that," Janson murmured, only releasing me after he was finished speaking.

My knees were shaking from fatigue, and I silently cried as Janson "lovingly" cradled me in his arms. I hated that Janson could make me do whatever he wanted, that he could make me feel so vulnerable and weak, that I _was_ so weak. The tears flowed freely and soaked into my pants, sticking to my skin in an uncomfortable way.

Janson showered me with affections and loving words, something I had wished I could do with Teresa before she had been murdered. And even though I wanted to get revenge, to strangle Janson and then leave the room, I couldn't even move a toe or finger. Sleep began to close my eyes, much like how you shut the eyes of a corpse to make them seem like they're sleeping.

Succumbing to fatigue, I prayed to the universe and just about anything that nothing would happen to me while I slept. Though I wasn't expecting very good results, it comforted me in some way to think that there could be something watching over me, trying to keep Janson from doing anything horrid to me.

TT [I'm so bad at this! Sorry!

 **NON-CON SCENE IS OVER NOW! You can come read the aftermath if you didn't read whatever was above. Also, TIME SKIP.**

And I'm sorry for not uploading for forever. I was originally going to just end it here, but to make up for my lack of updates, I decided I was going to make this chapter even longer and let those that didn't read my horrible non-con scene to read at least something in this chapter.

And it's Janson's POV. We'll get to Minho eventually. And there are mentions of what happened to Thomas just now below along with what Janson wants to do with him, so if you don't like mentions of rape and non-con stuff, then you may want to skip a bit. Just saying.]

Watching Thomas fall asleep in my arms again was just as pleasureable as last time. He had cried himself to sleep, but he felt better now. Tommy had to feel better now. After all, I helped him feel better.

A single lock of hair swept across his forehead as I awoke, cradling him in my arms. Only a few hours had passed after I had fallen asleep, and Thomas' dark circles seemed to have faded away for now. His face needed a bit of washing after all of the tears that had streamed down, but he could do that after he woke up.

After gently placing Thomas onto the bed, I threw the old tissues into the trash can before returning to Thomas's still form. He looked so peaceful and calm, nothing like how he is when he's awake. Always glaring and seething at me, thinking that I had done something wrong. It felt deliciously wonderful, though, to be at the receiving end of his rage, so I couldn't complain. Besides, it felt even more pleasing when Thomas doesn't fight back and accepts my love.

Laying down next to Thomas, I took off the handcuffs to allow his injured arm a bit of relief. Immediately, Thomas mewled and slowly drew his arm closer to his side, keeping it a bit safer from harm. This time, as I drew the sheets over me, Thomas didn't move closer. He drew away instead, almost hanging over the edge of the bed before he finally stopped moving.

 _Why does Thomas hate me so much?_ [Yes, Janson is in denial.] An image of Vince appeared in my mind, and I snorted before pushing it down. Thomas surely wasn't angry about _that_ , now, was he?

I have to say, though, that it was downright delightful to behead that fool. Thinking that he could lie to me about Thomas. Seriously, what was he thinking? Of course Thomas loved me. It was just buried underneath all the glares and his friends' pressure.

Perhaps getting rid of them would make Thomas more submissive and willing.

The thought of Thomas willingly getting onto his knees for me got me even harder, and I could feel precum leaking out. A tiny moan slipped out at the memory of Thomas' sounds, the salty taste of his cum on the tissues, the sight of his perfect cock, and my desire for him grew with every moment. Sweating hands shook as I tried to hold myself back and allow Tommy some more rest for being a good boy today, but I needed him. I needed to feel his mouth around me, to fuck him, to make him see how much I need him.

Sitting up, I stop when Thomas groans in pain. He panted when he moved a bit, hissing as the pain worsened. My growing lust overtook my worry for him, and I delicately lowered him onto the floor on his knees, and watched his eyelids flutter before opening sleepily. Taking some kind of drug Dr. Crawford had made for me out of the bag, I pour a small amount into a tiny cup using a syringe to measure out how much I'm using, and then give it to Tommy to swallow. I smile when he drinks it down without question, though he did try to spit it out when the taste finally reached his sleepy brain.

Tommy slowly grew more aware, but it didn't matter. He had already taken the new drug, and I couldn't wait until fifteen minutes for it to kick in. But then, I would have a submissive Tommy for 2 and a half hours at the very least. It would be worth it to wait for a measly fifteen minutes. Besides, I could always start without its effects.

I was sitting on the bed, looking down at Tommy kneeling in front of me. Attempting to try out new nicknames, I say, "Did you have a nice nap, love?"

Frowning, he crosses his arms and says nothing.

"Do you not like your new nickname? What about darling? Sweet?" Here I smirk. "Pet?"

"I'm not your goddamn pet!" _Too easy._

"Then what nickname do you want?" Tommy didn't reply. "I'll choose for you if you don't make a choice. Pet seems like nice for you." I finger the collar, and I can tell Tommy is thinking about it, too. "What do you think?"

He snarled under his breath. "...I guess love's nice." His shoulders slumped in defeat. My lips raised in victory.

My fingers drift through his soft locks of hair, somewhat sticky with sweat. I should give him another shower after this. "Do you want to have some fun? Perhaps I could bring in a servant or two for you to play with."

The words itself weren't very wrong, but the tone that I used made it sound very suggestive and Tommy didn't like it. From the way his head snapped up, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, he was disgusted by the thought. So am I. There's no way I would let such filthy servant hands, or any hands other than mine, touch Tommy in such ways.

"I'm just joking, love." I stopped when he finally noticed the bulge in my pants. Fear lurked in his eyes as he tried to get up, only to be pushed back onto the floor with my hands securely gripping his shoulders. He was just too adorable when he was scared. My tongue swept across my lips in anticipation.

"Don't try to fight back. It'll only make it hurt more." My pants only grew tighter with every struggle Tommy made, and I could hardly wait to have his lips wrapped around me, satisfying my lust for him for the moment, before I get hard all over again.

Pulling him closer, I keep a firm grip on one shoulder as my other hand fumbles with the button and zipper on my pants. Tommy looked like he wanted to stare at something else, but he couldn't manage to move his eyes away. Then I pull out my swollen cock, leaking a bit, and smile up at Tommy. His cheeks had been painted a light pink as he looked up at me, and his frightened doe eyes made my imagination run wild.

"Ready for round two?" _I know I am._

O-O [... **Time skip**. Also, sorry, but there's going to be even more rape. This chapter is just all about rape. Okay? I'm just trying something out. This is a test chapter. Remember that. Where were we? Ah, yes. **Time skip!** ]

I was moaning rather loudly now, trying my best to stop myself from cumming as Tommy sucked on my dick. The heat and his tongue gliding over me beat my expectations and fantasy by a mile! Teeth grazed my hard cock, and my entire body tensed as I finally came into Tommy's mouth once more, gripping his hair when I bent over in pleasure.

It seemed to go on for forever yet also ended quickly, and Tommy's lidded eyes barely flickered up in my direction as he swallowed. When I lightly pulled his jaw down, there was no trace of my cum in his mouth, and I said, "Good boy!" Where Tommy would have frowned or growled and hissed like when he was forced to give me a blowjob, now he gave a small smile (though it was forced), accepting my praise. To think that he would be like this for another two hours! This had to be a dream, like the ones I had when I had him for over a year.

Now I had submissive Tommy, who I could do wonderful things with. He just wouldn't remember a thing, which was one of the downsides of this drug. So I had recorded everything, even when I buried my fingers into him and found his prostate, hearing the sounds he made right before he came. Just to let Tommy know what had happened when the drug wears off.

Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of his mouth, plucked Tommy up off the ground, and walked into the bathroom. I stripped both myself and Tommy down with the camera off (I decided that Tommy didn't need to know about this for the moment) and turned on the water. Hot water streamed down my face, and I pulled Tommy into the shower with me. Beneath the water and the bathroom light, he seemed almost otherwordly, beautiful in a way no other man or woman could be.

And he was all mine.

To prove that to myself, I sucked and nibbled the skin on his shoulder, so he could hide the hickey more easily. Seeing a hickey on someone else was quite embarrassing, and I didn't want Tommy to feel humiliated. I just wanted him to feel good with me, to become just as addicted to me as I am to him.

When I pulled away, I pecked him on the lips before turning off the water and applying shampoo to his hair. Tommy drowsily watched me, unable to do anything on his own. Seeing Tommy unable to do anything without me made me feel more powerful and in control. Hopefully Dr. Crawford could make the drug less addicting. I looked forward to the day when Tommy would willingly love me back, when I wouldn't have to force him or drug him to love me back.

And then I'll never let him go.

 **Finally, the end! I can post this now. Sorry this took forever, I was just deciding whether or not to include the rape, and I feel a bit embarrassed to post this. Okay, very embarrassed. But even though I feel like this was horrible, it might not be.**

 **Please tell me if I should work on it a bit more, never do it again, or if you liked it. Feedback is always appreciated. Also, did you notice how I switched out Thomas' name for Tommy when it was Janson's POV at some point in the chapter. I just wanted to show how often Janson had used the name, to the point where he didn't even notice how he was using Tommy in his thoughts instead of Thomas. Or that he didn't care.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I'll see y'all in the next chapter/story!**


	22. Another Filler Chapter

**So... I don't know when or how I should end this. I want to keep going, but I also think that this story may be getting a bit longer and WAY WEIRDER than I first thought. I thought I would stop at, like, chapter 5 or something. But I'm still here, writing like a mad man set on forcing Thomas through hell.**

 **Also, I don't know what I was thinking when writing the last chapter. I don't know if I want to take that down or something, but I'm not going to yet. Very sorry about how weird the last chapter was, it was a test run to see if I could write sex scenes, and I personally think it was a failure. Let me know if you think it was awful. Anyways, hope you're enjoying the story so far [even with that previous chapter of horror].**

 **But [whatever Y/N is] said that they liked that chapter a lot, so I'm thinking that _maybe_ it being bad is all in my head. Though it wouldn't be in there if it didn't have a good reason to be. I still think it's horrible, but if you liked it, then I have succeeded! Thanks! I'm feeling so much more better that you're still reading this story!**

 **[By the way, I'm sick. Along with allergies that only seem to start up at school. Weird...]**

 **On with the chapter!**

 **[THIS IS SONYA'S POV WHILE THOMAS AND MINHO WERE BEING TAKEN. It's in all caps to help you from missing it.]**

Everything was burning on one side of the city. Smoke and sand swept through the other side like a poisonous fog, intent on suffocating any survivors. Bombs still whistled through the air before plummeting to the ground. But for some reason, the area by the hospital had not been aimed at. Perhaps because there was a berg slowly lifting itself off of the ground.

A thought flickered to life in my brain as I watched the berg climb higher into the sky, sand blown everywhere as it left. _The berg had to have a reason to land here, where there were NO BOMBS landing. So something special had to be here, something that they wanted, and something that they had managed to get..._

Only one thing came to mind that Janson would want. Something that had been missing for a week.

 _Thomas. They took Thomas._

Speeding down the trembling road, I screamed for Thomas, Minho, almost anyone at that point. Minho was supposed to be here with Thomas. Was he also taken? A few heads popped up, but none of them I recognized. Except for one. The one Minho liked to call Faker [Thomas had talked about him to Minho, and he used the nickname for the soldier from a while ago].

His real name was Will Smith. Very generic name, but it didn't really suit his personality and his expression, not like Faker. As he sauntered up to me, he somehow still managed to look egotistical even while he was limping. "Seems you're quite lucky to find this place, Sonya," he purred, appearing innocent and yet also sadistic at the same time. "Everywhere else has been bombed."

"So I've heard." More heads popped out from behind broken walls of concrete, watching us from afar.

He hums before licking his dry, sand-covered lips with a scrunched nose. "And you've come at the right time, too. You just missed the soldiers."

My heart stopped beating. "Soldiers?"

"Yeah!" A small child, bruised and a bit too skinny for my liking, with blond bangs covering wide brown eyes stared at me with an unsettling gaze. It seemed he didn't understand when to blink or look away. "They shot at us! With large sticks that put people to sleep!"

The color in my face faded. "W-What?!" The dust storm had finally reached us, growing stronger by the minute, and everyone desperately tried to cover their faces with something.

"Yeah! We're lucky that they left pretty soon. Then you came along!" The wind blew out whatever else Faker had tried to say.

"WHAT!?!"

"I SAID, THEY SEEMED PRETTY EXCITED ABOUT SOMETHING!" Now I was paler than a sheet of paper, for I had been right. They had been looking for something.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY WERE LOOKING FOR!?!" Please say it was not Thomas, that he's hiding out in a safe bunker where Janson could never find him. The storm forced all of us closer together to hear what we had to say.

"NO!" Another gust of wind almost knocked me off my feet and into the small blond child. Faker turned to all of the survivors and screamed, "EVERYONE GET TO SHELTER IMMEDIATELY!!!"

Thankfully, everyone had heard and shuffled over to the nearest building not on fire. The trembling and explosions had ceased, and the dread in me grew. Blindly stumbling, I had been forced to grasp Faker's hand tightly when I could no longer see. Though I let go when we entered the building, I could almost see Faker's ego rise as my face reddened from embarrassment.

Inside the small, cramped building, sand continued to blow in until an old couple pushed against the wind to shut the door. With a deafening slam, all noises outside had been silenced. Once everything was silent, the crowd began to whisper frantically to their neighbors, frightened by what had just happened. And the temperature seemed to rise, too. My skin burned like I was standing out in broad daylight without moving into the shade.

"Miss?" It was the small child again. He seemed spooked by something that had happened.

"Yes?" Thankfully, Faker was soon dragged off by a busty Asian female. They'll probably have a good time.

His hand snaked around my wrist, pulling me to the door. "We have to find 15 and 4 and 5 and Thomas and 105 and 106. I even saw an old man take 15 and 5 away!" I froze. _Thomas?_ This kid knew Thomas? And why was he spouting all of these numbers?

"Do you know where Thomas is?"

"Last I saw, he got shot by the old man." _What?!_ "Then this Asian kid began screaming for him and then chased after them. He started screaming, too, so I tried to find 4! And then the soldiers came out and started shooting at me!"

 _Fuck!_ I shoved people, even the elderly, out of my way as I raced to the door, the child not far behind. The crowd cried out in shock or anger, and then fear after I opened the door and ran out into the sand storm.

"Where could they be?!" The dust storm was more feirce than I recalled, trying its goddamn hardest to knock me to the floor. Hopelessness crept in, slowly taking ahold of me, especially as the dust storm settled in. "Let's just go back inside for now!" There was no way we could find Thomas or Minho now.

But the child wasn't listening to me. He was staring down at the floor. "Come on!" Intent on saving him, I grabbed the child's tiny hand before stopping in place, staring down at the floor with the child. There, defying the storm itself, was a small arrow dug into wet sand, pointing somewhere to our left.

Entranced, the small child turned to me and said, "We should follow it." He had spoken without yelling, yet I could still hear him above the roaring wind.

When he started walking, I followed like a loyal dog. A few feet away, another arrow was inscribed in the wet sand, this time pointing to our right. Doubt strutted into my mind, kicking out the hopelessness I felt. _Why are we following these arrows? Could we trust it?_

Yet it was the only lead we had. We followed arrow after arrow, made turn after turn, and sometimes backtracked because of them. In doing so, we were led to the outer circle of the swirling winds that consisted of the storm. There I could see a single berg, with an arrow pointing straight at the entrance. Without hesitation, the small child dragged me towards the berg, and before I knew it we were inside of it, the door closing behind us. Then the lights flickered on, blinking every few seconds. "5?" the small child whispered, his expression flitting between joy and fear.

Then there was a rustling, and a monstrous beast emerged from one of the rooms. I screamed. "Get away from us!" Throwing myself at the nearest weapon, I pulled out a metal rod from a bag and pointed it at him, breathing heavily. "Stay away!"

The beast snarled before backhanding the rod, sending it flying out of my hand. I cowered in the corner, too scared to fight back against the powerful monstrosity breathing in my face. Then a little hand rested on the beast's cheek, and it turned to the small child. "She's a friend of Thomas," he said. "She doesn't want to hurt you, you just scared her. It's alright."

 _It's going to kill him!_ My body wouldn't even move as the beast turned its head at him, and my heart pounded. I've seen teens get brutally stabbed, but never a child under the age of ten. Yet even though I wished I could help him, my instinct forced me to continue cowering.

Its shoulders slumped, and it turned to hiss at me before facing the boy to make wild gestures and snarls. The boy seemed to understand what it was saying, for to my disbelief, he responded. "Oh, we just followed the arrows in the sand. It led us in here."

Grunting, the beast reentered its room, slamming the door behind it. I could finally breathe again. "Wha-What was that thing?"

"Don't call him a thing." The child frowned, sending a chill down my back with his serious expression. "We don't like it when people call us things. We were—are human, too."

"We?"

"Yeah. Everyone tested on like us. Like me and 5."

I scoff. "You don't look like a hideous beast."

A bang sounds out from behind 5's door, and the lights almost blacked out. The child slams me against the wall before I could even blink, likely feeling my racing heart thumping, and hissed, "Don't say that! It's not his fault that they tested on him and made him like that!"

He lets go, allowing me to breathe. All of a sudden, the berg seems too small, and I want to go back to Mrs. Beldom. "I-I really need to go," I stutter, shuffling over to the exit.

"But why? Don't you enjoy my company?"

"It's not you, it's—Ugh! I just want to go home, to where it's safe! What about Harriet? She'll be worried sick! I need to go back—!"

"And what about 15 and 4?!" he snarls. "They're going to be tested on again. They'll be tortured or killed! At least your friend doesn't have to be worried about being deformed!"

"We've been tested on! We were lab rats, too, you know! It's not just you that's been tortured to find the Cure!"

"I never said that! We just suffered more than you!"

"Almost all of my friends have DIED because of that stupid test! And one of them is going to go through HELL because he's the FUCKING Cure! Don't think that you're the only one suffering!"

We both heave, glaring at each other, neither one willing to back down first. "And to think that you would help us," he muttered, each word treated like a curse. The child stormed into another room and slammed the door, effectively crumbling down my arguements and curses.

 _What am I thinking? Thomas and Minho need me to help them, and all I can do is argue with this kid._ I couldn't wait for them to show up. They needed me right now.

The berg was too bright, flickering into inky darkness that made my heart tremble before bursting to life again. Every screen, every touch of cold metal, every crate of supplies brought me to the brink of tears. No, I couldn't leave everyone else behind in the storm. I needed to bring them with me...

A slosh of water had my head snapping to attention. Water was moving to the screen, carrying wet sand with it, before forming an arrow out of the wet sand. It was pointing at the screen. Befuddled, I stayed in my safe corner, where nothing could hurt me. The screen powered on, and the water moved the sand to spell out, _"Let me in."_

Now I could suddenly recall Jorge's little movies that we watched to make myself feel better when we were waiting for the others to save Thomas. The TV had been small, but it was one of the best moments of my life. But when we were watching horror movies, Jorge clicked his tongue whenever those words popped up, saying something along the lines of, "These idiots should run while they have the chance!"

But they had multiple ways to get out. There was only one way out of the berg. They had led me here, to this death trap, where I would slowly suffer with no way to get help. It was the ideal scenario for the killer.

Something slammed into the berg, rocking it back and forth multiple times. I hadn't even realized I was screaming until the kid was there, clamping a hand over my mouth. I pulled his hand away from my mouth. "We're going to _die_."

"Face the corner, okay? Don't make any sudden moves, and don't unplug your ears. Never look over your shoulder unless I say so. Understand?" His eyes seemed to search my very soul as if he could see straight through me.

 _But how would I hear you if my ears were plugged?_ I was about to ask before the door began to slowly dent, and the metal shrieked as it was slowly torn apart. "Quickly, go!" he yelled, hurrying to his own corner.

Not a single moment in my life had me feeling so vulnerable as I curled up in the corner. I could hear the child sing a song about a child drowned for stealing or something and hiding in the corner as the door finally caved in, allowing whatever it was to enter with a slosh. Their feet slapped the water, creating tiny ripples, until all I could hear was my heart beating. Then I plugged my ears.

The silence stretched out. It was aggravating to wait for the blow that would end my life. What's taking it so long? Just end my life already! Sweat began to soak my clothes in irritating ways, pouring out of me like a leaky faucet.

Then something tapped on my shoulders. I opened my eyes, but kept facing the wall. That could be the killer, trying to get me to look at him so he could see the terror in me before I died. In an act of defiance, I tightened my jaw and stared at the wall, searching for a shadow.

But there was none there.

Another tap on my shoulder, and I could feel a tug on a lock of my hair. The hair fell back down on my back, wet. Still, I stared at the wall, shocked that there was no shadow. Shouldn't there be one?

Despite my instincts screaming at me, I turned back to look behind me. There was nothing in the room. But the child was gone. A rush of relief swept through me, and I hated myself for thanking the predator for taking the child instead of me. But Thomas needed me. I _had_ to stay alive.

And in the water were words. Moving quickly, I hardly read the first sentence before the water formed a new one. It kept changing, shifting and moving to create letters. But I was riveted, hooked by the second sentence I had read. It intrigued me in a horrible way, as the words described horrible stories of child abuse and torture. At last the water stopped forming new letters, and I now knew what they wanted me to know. And it shocked me. I couldn't believe that Mrs. Beldom had done those things, and to children nonetheless. It was despicable and disgusting. Now I felt extremely guilty for saying the things I had said to the child and 5 earlier and wanted to take it back.

When I looked up, I realized that the lights had stopped flickering. And all the doors had been opened. The entrance to the berg had been obliterated, a heap of mangled and twisted metal allowing drifts of sand to carefully venture in.

That was when I saw the corpse standing by the pile of metal, glaring at me with one empty eye socket.

T—T [Okay, that's enough. That's it with Sonya. **NOW WE'RE GOING TO SEE MINHO'S SECOND DAY BEING A CAPTIVE OR WHATEVER.** All caps and bolded so you don't miss it. Though you might anyways.

Minho's POV, by the way.]

Waking up to see the white ceiling and smell the clean, sterile air was a roller coaster of emotions, particularly rage and fear. Janson could be doing something to Thomas right now, and I would have been powerless to stop it. What if Janson hurt Thomas in a way that nobody could heal? I could be doing something right now to stop that from happening, but instead I have to wait for Dr Crawford to clean out my wounds again.

Staring up at the clock, it read 9:45. Perhaps, in another hour, Dr Crawford would come back with something new to say about Thomas. But I couldn't wait another hour. I wanted her to come back now.

I wanted to see Thomas again.

It boggled my mind how I was here for only a day, and I was already craving to see Thomas. To know that he was okay. Just the thought about seeing him had my heart almost burst with the need to know that he was okay, to make sure that he was okay. If Janson kept his hands away from Thomas, everything would be fine. Our friends would be here soon to get us out.

 _But what if Janson doesn't keep his hands away? What if he decides that he wants more from Thomas? What if he actually...?_ My fists trembled in disgust as the memory of watching Janson kiss Thomas relived itself in my head. Janson would want more from Thomas.

Way more than just his blood and a kiss.

But what could I do? The door could take more damage than what I could deliver, guards were waiting to shoot me on sight, and there was still the snake to deal with after all of the guards.

Snake... The word fit Janson. It left the same bitter taste in my mouth that Janson's name always left, and it felt like acid sloshing down my throat. Not to mention the poisonous fangs that they would both have, lurking in the shadows to strike when its prey was vulnerable and defenseless.

So as I got up and began to stretch, the door suddenly swung open and almost nailed me in the face, causing me to jump out of my skin. Nobody should have been coming into my room. I hadn't even gotten my morning breakfast yet, which would have arrived around 10:00 am.

Dr Crawford shut the door behind her, hurriedly changing my bandages with a large note thrown carelessly to the floor before leaving with a swoosh of her long white coat. I had seen the light mascara that she had on running down her face, the way her eyes puffed up and reddened, and how her cheeks were slick with tears. Something must have happened.

Now the note seemed less hopeful and a way to escape my little cell and more of a peephole into my worst fears. The paper left a small scratch on my palm as I picked it up, allowing my blood to drip onto the concrete floor. But it didn't matter. None of my wounds did.

The words cut deeper than anything else could.

OO [Time Skip]

All I could think about for the rest of the day was what Dr Crawford had done. How could she? How could she make a drug for Janson and even try to say sorry?

I even thought that she was nice. Obviously, I was wrong about her.

When she came in to clean out my wounds, I didn't even try to look at her. She just made my stomach twist in on itself. Everything did. Even my meals tasted more revolting and colder than it usually was.

Sometimes I stared down at the bowl they had given me, wondering if I could hide it and then kill Dr Crawford with it. But in the end, I decided not to. She was crying, after all, so she might have been forced to do it. She might not have wanted to make the drug, but Janson still made her create the drug.

Like how Janson forced Thomas to kiss him.

My meager meals threatened to spill out of my mouth. Janson could be demanding so much more of Thomas right now, like... _that_ thing that my roommate from about five years ago did with that girl. Just thinking about the time I stumbled into those two in my closet made me shiver.

 _Could it be done between two men?_ Knowing Janson, he probably could make it happen. Especially with how dedicated he was to keep Thomas with him. He bombed a city just to have Thomas! Who knows what Janson would do now that he had what he craved?

Dr Crawford returned within the dead of night, shaking me awake with fearful eyes. Her cheeks were wet with tears, immediately putting me on edge. She changed my bandages faster than she had ever done before. Afterwards, she grabbed both of my arms and attempted to keep her worries from spilling forth.

"What happened? Is Thomas hurt? Is Thomas okay? Are you hurt? What's going on?!" The words poured out of my mouth like a waterfall.

She struggled to keep up with my questions. "Yes, Thomas is hurt—No, he's alright now—Yes, I'm fine—Will you let me explain without interrupting?!

Properly scolded and feeling foolish, I leaned against my bed post. She sighed. "Honestly, what am I to do with you? Thomas is in the medical ward right now. He's got a fractured arm, but it'll heal properly."

"So—?" Her glare cut me off faster than a Griever could stab.

" _Thank you_ for shutting up. Anyways, that's not the worrying part. While we were examining him, I noticed that he had traces of the drug that I had made earlier in his bloodstream. Do you know what this means?" I shake my head. "It means that Janson used the drug on him," she whispered, glancing at the door every so often. "A drug that makes a person more complacent. More willing." Her eyes were wide with fear of what Thomas may have gone through.

I could already see where this was going.

"He had _sex_ with Thomas?!"

"It's very likely, especially with the multiple hickeys on his neck," she replied.

I fell back against the bed, shocked by the news. From Thomas's words, I knew that Janson haunted Thomas in his hallucinations; but I never imagined that he would _actually_ have sex with Thomas. Thomas had seemed terrified after every nightmare, but he always brushed off my worries. I should have been more pushy, should have demanded Thomas to tell me earlier. Thomas shouldn't have had to carry the weight of this on his own. He shouldn't be suffering on his own! It's not right.

"I thought it was just a hallucination. I never knew it would actually happen." Dr Crawford sat down next to me, silently comforting me as I tried not to cry. It felt nice to be with her.

"Well, I have to tend to Thomas." The bed groaned as she stood up. She dusted off her uniform before turning to me. "I'll be back with an update on Thomas. I'll make sure that Thomas is safe."

With that, she left.

—_— [15's POV]

The men in white came back again. They poked needles into my arm and draw red stuff out of me. Fascinated, I watched the crimson liquid leave me, wondering where it had come from. Every time they did this, 4, in the cell next over, always watched me hungrily while purring. One of the white men pressed something that caused her to scream. She must have done something wrong.

Would they shock me?

Thankfully, they leave after taking more needles of the red stuff, leaving behind a plate of food. It wasn't delicious, but it wasn't bad, either. I finished the plate in one big gulp, taking anything for food.

4 had been given nothing. Her hair stuck to the sides of her face as she sat in the corner, motionless. If there was one thing we had learned from Beldom, it was to never fight back against the people in white. Just sit in the corner, eat your meals, and wait for your chance to escape.

Tapping the walls, I listened for any hollow spaces, any vents. I couldn't see any, but air had to come into this room somehow, right? Nothing was inescapable.

Soon enough, my long nails found a vent hidden behind a thin piece of the wall. But I continued on, hiding the fact that I had found it. Huffing, I sat down on the bed and acted as if I was annoyed. Which I was, so it wasn't hard. Escaping was so tiring.

But they would come take the red stuff away from me again. And again. And again. It's _mine_. Nobody's allowed to take what is mine.

Not even Janson.

Though I closed my eyes and evened out my breaths, I was still very much awake. And I was going to break out of here. Sooner or later.

After that, I would go see Thomas again. He's _my_ friend. Anyone that gets in my way will have to paint the walls with their red liquids.

Or, if I play my cards right and act nice, I could go see Thomas without having to go through the trouble of escaping and staying out of sight. Not to mention that this building must be huge. Finding Thomas wouldn't be easy. It would be the opposite of easy.

 _Hmm... Such a hard decision._

The door opens up for some more white men. Escape would have to wait for now. I grinned innocently, showing off my knive-like teeth.

Right now, I had thieves to punish.

 **Sorry! I really didn't want this to be a sort of filler chapter, but it sort of ended up like that. Also, I do have a seperate plotline for Sonya, but for now, I'm not sure what she's going to do.**

 **And that's it for now. Don't worry, I don't plan to go easy on Thomas. And I may include another intimate scene, but I don't know if I'm cut out for that. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter. See you in the next chapter/story!**


	23. Note

**Ok, so, I have a few things I want to get across. I am not ending this story. But I feel like I should update this story a bit, make it flow better. I just wrote whatever I wanted, but I feel like I should filter the ideas now to make it easier to read. So I'm going to be rewriting a lot of this, and I won't have a new chapter anytime soon. But I will be actively updating both this story and my other story. Don't read it if you don't like stories about happy children and a robot.**

 **And I want to try writing in third person a bit. The rewritten chapters won't be in third person, but the new ones will be unless you like first person better.**

 **I already have some of the chapters rewritten a bit, so just wait a bit. I'm having some trouble with school, so it's not going up as fast as I hoped. But it will be up.**

 **Anyways, better get to writing! See ya!**


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